


Ferret's Ficlets

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Ultimates
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Tumblr fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2019-09-12 16:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 76,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16876644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: This is an archive of the mini-fics I've posted on tumblr, plus new drabbles and ficlets that I'll write in the future. Each chapter will be a separate fic and warnings/tags for individual stories will be in the notes. 90% Stony, occasional other pairings, which will be marked. It's marked complete because each chapter is an entire story, but sub for regular updates.





	1. More Red

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into English available: [【授权翻译】Rush Hour Crush 高峰期的一见钟情 by FestiveFerret](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464985) by [Liebesfreud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liebesfreud/pseuds/Liebesfreud)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For my bday prompt party. sunnyzhp22 asked for: Steve is an (illegal) graffiti artist and runs into Tony after he is caught painting one of his warehouses
> 
> Rated: T

“Needs more red.” **  
**

Steve startled back from the wall, the spray can in his hand falling to the ground with a rattle. “Shit!” He spun around, ready to give the speaker a piece of his mind, but when his mouth fell open, no sound would come out.

“Hey.” The man waved - the man Steve instantly recognized. Tony Stark. CEO of Stark Industries. Owner of the warehouse Steve was currently, illegally, painting on.

“Um.” Steve debated running, but although Mr. Stark appeared to be leaning casually against the brick wall opposite, there was still a tension in his frame that suggested he could move quickly. He was between Steve and the exit of the alley, and Steve’s asthma meant he could easily be outstripped.

“Seriously, it needs more red.” Mr. Stark waved towards the painting on the wall behind Steve. “Not that I don’t love your subject matter, because, you know, me, and everyone knows how I feel about me. But I designed that armour - and I wear it daily - and it needs more red. Mostly around the shoulder bits. But otherwise good job. Looks just like me. I like the commentary too.”

“Uh, Mr. Stark -” Steve started, not sure what he was going to say. Mr. Stark wasn’t reaching for his phone to call the police, but Steve also didn’t know how long he’d been standing there - damn his shitty hearing and this was exactly why he usually made Bucky go along as his lookout - maybe he’d already called and they were on their way.

“You’re The Captain, right?” Mr. Stark went on. “Saw your tag on the factory in Brooklyn. I especially liked the one of me but my suit is made out of money. Classy. This one’s good too, though.” Mr. Stark pushed off the wall and walked over to the mural, stepping up close to peer at it, mumbling something else about “red.”

“Mr. Stark -”

Mr. Stark waved a hand at him. “Would you  _please_  stop calling me that? Tony.”

“What?” Steve shook his head, wondering if his hearing was failing him again.

“Call me Tony. Mr. Stark is what my father called me.” Mr. St-  _Tony_  - flashed him a brilliant grin which slowly faded when Steve did nothing but continue to stare at him. “Come on, that one was funny, no?”

“I - I’m really sorry,” Steve stuttered out.

Tony cocked a hip, arms crossed, and looked Steve up and down. His gaze was so intense, Steve felt the back of his neck heat. “Are you sorry you painted this or just sorry you got caught?”

Steve opened his mouth then closed it again. His ma hadn’t raised a liar, even if she had raised a lawbreaker. His lips twisted together, and Tony burst into laughter. He tapped a knuckle against the wall under Steve’s half-finished painting - Iron Man standing on piles of SI-designed weapons, fingers up in a peace sign. “Will this keep?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I take you across the street for a burger, is it going to ruin this, or can it wait?”

Steve looked back at the painting. “It can wait. I mean, it won’t ruin it if I don’t finish it now.” What was happening?

“Awesome. Let’s go.” Tony turned and marched off down the alley, but Steve called after him, stilling him.

“Mr. Stark!”

He stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

“If you’re going to call the police, I’d rather you just get it over with.”

Tony smirked, amused. “I was actually just going to buy you a burger.” Tony sized him up. “Maybe three burgers.”

Steve blinked at him. “Why?”

“Because you look like you could use it.” Tony smiled again. “Look, it’s all business, I promise. No flirting.” His eyes darkened as they drifted over Steve again. “We can save the flirting for later. Come on.” He set off again.

Steve left his paint behind and trotted after him, having no other option. He couldn’t run, that would just lead Tony straight to his home - right to Ma, who would not be amused. If he went with him, he might be able to convince Tony not to get him in trouble, maybe offer a trade. He could clean off the paintings in exchange for not going to jail.

Tony was already in a booth by the time Steve caught up, a waiter filling two glasses of water. Steve slid in on the other side. Tony tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “So what do you charge?”

“I’m sorry?”

The waiter placed a menu in front of him. “What can I get you to drink?”

Steve reeled. This afternoon had taken a wild turn somewhere. Tony’s question was too confusing so Steve said, “Gingerale?” to the waiter and he nodded and walked away.

“What do you charge?” Tony repeated.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“For your paintings.”

“Charge? …I don’t -”

“Like what? Four k? Five? I’m thinking the steam punk one you did down by Battery Park, but at least twice as big. It’s for the lobby of SI headquarters.” Tony sipped his water.

“You… you want a painting?”

The waiter arrived with their drinks. “You decide what you’d like?” he asked.

“Cheeseburger. Sweet potato fries.” Tony looked at Steve.

“Um. Sure. Same, I guess.” Steve waited until the waiter walked away. “I’m sorry, are you going to call the cops or what?”

Tony snorted. “The cops? Why?”

“I… I was vandalizing your building.”

“Well, yeah.” Tony twirled the straw in his cup. “But in a really cool way.”

Steve shifted in his seat. Was Tony making fun of him? “Some of them… weren’t so flattering.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m hoping to have some creative input on the commission. Though, the one of me sitting on that throne from Game of Thrones would look pretty great behind reception.”

The waiter reappeared with two plates and set them down on the table. Tony upended the ketchup over his fries then shoved one in his mouth.

“Look, Mr. Stark -”

“Tony.”

“…Tony. Could you be upfront with me? I’m really confused, and I don’t really appreciate you messing me around.”

Tony blinked at him, a fry stuck halfway to his mouth. “Was I not clear? I like your art. I’ve been trying to catch you for weeks, now, but no one would tell me who you are.”

“So you hung around in alleys waiting for me to show?”

“No, of course not. I set up a series of security camera drones attracted to the chemicals in spray paint.”

“Oh.”

“So now I’ve got you! And I want to commission you to paint something kickass for the lobby of my building. Money is really no object, so name your price. I’m not going to barter, I’m not that slick.”

Steve managed one of his fries. They were surprisingly good, even though they were orange. “I was just hoping to barter my way out of jail, honestly.”

Tony started laughing, and Steve was briefly distracted by the way the corners of his eyes crinkled. He could see why Tony had earned his playboy reputation; he was painfully attractive in person. “I’m not going to call the cops, ‘Captain’.” He smirked, and Steve’s breath caught.

“Oh, it’s Steve, actually.”

“Steve, huh? I like it.” Tony folded his elbows over the edge of the table and leaned in. “So? Five thousand sound good? If it takes a long time, I can throw in a bonus.”

Steve took a took breath. “That’s more money than I usually make in six months.”

Tony’s grin widened. “Just six months? Better make it ten thousand, then.”

“Mr. S- Tony. I don’t know what to say. I -”

“Just say you’ll do it.” Tony picked the tomatoes off his burger. “Then say you’ll go out to dinner with me.” He set them aside and took a bite. “If you want.”

Steve looked down at his plate then back up at Tony. “Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?”

“What? No. This is all business. I said I’d save the flirting for later. So… ”’ Tony raised an eyebrow, his voice dropping low. “Wanna spend later with me, hot stuff?”

“You really want to go out with me?” Steve looked around as if someone was going to pop out and yell something about candid camera.

“Yes, please.” Tony’s smirk softened into something warmer, and Steve sipped his gingerale to push down the sudden knot in his throat. “You’re hot, you’re talented, you’re smart - assuming those murals are your design. As long as you’re single and interested, I would very much like to go out with you.”

“I’m single.”  _Painfully single,_  he didn’t add.

“And…?” Nerves pinched the corners of Tony’s expression for the first time.

“And, uh, interested, of course. I mean, wow. You’re - really?”

“Steve. Yes, really. Please go on a date with me. Come over for dinner tomorrow night and we can get to know each other and you can explain that one mural you did by the Brooklyn Bridge, because I don’t get it.”

Steve shook his head, the last of his stress giving way to a smile. Somehow in the span of a few hours he had a job and a date? This was definitely the weirdest day he’d had in a while. “Okay. That sounds perfect.” He munched a few fries. “But if this isn’t a date, what do we talk about for the rest of lunch?”

“The painting?” Tony took out his phone and opened the gallery. He flicked to a folder and a sea of images of Steve’s graffiti work appeared. He flicked through them then stopped on one of Iron Man with a steampunk theme, all gears and pistons. “Like this.”

“That would work.” Steve nodded. “I really liked doing that one.”

“It’s my favourite. Probably because it’s one of the few that doesn’t make fun of me in some way, but it also might be because I really like gears. Just one thing I’d change, though.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve tilted forward over the table, leaning in to get a better look at the picture.

Tony leaned in too, close enough that Steve could feel heat radiating off him. “Yeah.” He smiled again, and Steve’s heart skipped. “Needs more red.”


	2. How It Used to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony leaned back against the mirrored wall of the hotel, pressing his flushed forehead to the cool glass. He already had his jacket off, and his shirt was three buttons down, but it wasn’t helping banish the heat that crackled under his skin.
> 
> The wedding reception still raged on down the street, but Tony had slipped out early, feeling the thudding of his heart low in his core. This was going to suck. A lot. But he had no choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/B/O, Omega!Tony, post-CACW, angst/feels, angry Tony, sad Steve, hopeful ending.
> 
> Rated: T

Tony leaned back against the mirrored wall of the hotel, pressing his flushed forehead to the cool glass. He already had his jacket off, and his shirt was three buttons down, but it wasn’t helping banish the heat that crackled under his skin. **  
**

The wedding reception still raged on down the street, but Tony had slipped out early, feeling the thudding of his heart low in his core. This was going to suck. A lot. But he had no choice.

He thought about the phone for the nine millionth time. He wasn’t sure if he was more scared that Steve would answer or that he wouldn’t, but Tony didn’t know what he’d do either way so it remained untouched in the bottom of his suitcase.

He rapped his fingers against his chest, over the scar.  _Fuck you,_  he thought, not for the first time, _fuck you for ruining my heart, making me weak, forcing me to do this. Fuck you._  He didn’t know if he was cursing his dad, Obie, the Ten Rings, or even Yinsen. Maybe himself. He was sewed back into one piece, but he was still broken, and the tingling in his fingertips and the sweat slicking his neck and thighs were evidence of that.

The elevator dinged softly, and Tony stepped out onto his floor. He shook out his white linen jacket then rummaged around in the pocket for his wallet, and then inside that for the hotel key. The back of his neck itched and when he moved to scratch it, he realized he still had the flower garland on. He fiddled with the edge of one petal and it broke away and fluttered to the floor.

It took three tries for the keycard reader to recognize him, but when it blinked green he pushed on the handle, rolled into the room and - stopped.

“What the fuck?”

“I’ll go if you want me to,” Steve said softly from where he sat on the bed, radiating stress.

“What are you doing here?” Tony asked, stalling. It was pretty obvious what he was doing here.

Steve saw the stall for what it was. One eyebrow arched up. Fuck, he looked good. His hair was longer, combed back from his face, and he had a beard of all things. A nice one. Tony’s flush deepened, and he all but growled. He wasn’t far along enough yet that he couldn’t kick Steve out right now and that was also frustrating. A part of him wished Steve had come later, when he was crazy, out of his mind with need, and then he wouldn’t have to choose. Then he could hate him more easily afterward.

But of course Steve was giving him a choice.

“I’ll go if you want me to,” he said again.

“How do you even know it’s time?”

Steve’s nostrils flared slightly, confirming what he already knew, and Tony resisted the urge to fling himself across the room, rub his face in Steve’s neck, scent him up again. Claim him. “I can count.”

“You kept track?” Tony asked, then huffed out a half-sigh, half-grunt and shuffled over to the coffee maker for something to do with his hands. He threw his jacket and the flowers on the chair by the bed and pointedly avoided Steve’s eyes. The coffee maker used those stupid one-time use pods, and Tony wrestled with its flimsy design. He picked up a mug and stomped off to the bathroom to fill it with water. Steve stayed quiet, still sitting on the edge of the bed, and let Tony storm around the hotel room.

The water spilled over the edge of the carafe, and Tony swore. He half-expected Steve to offer to do it for him. Tony always got clumsy when his hormones peaked, and Steve used to gently pry things out of his hands and take over, shooing him away to sit down. For some reason, the fact that Steve stayed where he was, didn’t say a word, while Tony argued with the coffee maker was what made a knot pinch painfully in his chest.

“I’ll go if you want me to,” Steve went on softly, “but I know you have no choice, and I don’t want you to go through this alone. Maybe you’ve -” Steve’s voice creaked under pressure “- found someone else to help you, in which case, _fine._ Tell me to leave before I meet them. But, I’m here for whatever you -” Steve’s lips twisted around the end of the word, as if they were caught between “want” and “need,” and Tony knew it because he was caught there too. He didn’t want Steve, but he needed him.

He didn’t fucking need him. But goddamn it, did he ever want him.

The coffee maker hissed out the last of the tepid, brown, coffee-like water with a strangled gurgle, and Tony picked up the mug and turned to stare down Steve Rogers. The cup shook, but Steve politely ignored it.

There was something pained and defiant in Steve’s eyes, almost begging Tony to tell him to fuck off, needing that punishment or closure or something. And Tony knew the feeling, as surely as he knew that it would never be that easy.

“There’s no one else,” he said.

Steve flickered through several emotions in rapid succession, relief, pain, anger, sadness. He settled on pain. Tony wondered if he would always settle on pain, if given the choice.  

“What do you see happening here?” Tony asked, sipping the disgusting coffee and trying not to curl his lip up. A slight twitch in Steve’s expression told him he had anyway.

Steve spread his hands. “Whatever you want. I can just sit in that chair, bring you water, food, whatever you need. I can guard the door if it’d make you feel better. I can book another room, be down the hall just in case.” He paused, swallowed. “Or it can be how it used to be.”

“It’ll never be how it used to be,” Tony spat out.

“Okay.”

Tony bristled. He wanted the fight now. He wanted to scream and rage and curse Steve for breaking his armour and breaking his heart and breaking up the fucking team. And for being broken - too broken to hold Tony up when his foundation rattled, too broken to fill in the cracks, too broken to fix this. Steve was supposed to fix him, that was how this worked.

“You were supposed to fix me,” Tony mumbled, more to the carpet than to Steve. He set the mug aside and leaned back against the desk, hands gripped over the edge.

“I’m sorry.” And it sounded like he genuinely was.

“Fuck you.”

They hung in tense silence for a moment, then Steve finally moved. He stood. “Alright, I’ll go. I’m going to hang around in the bar for a few hours, til it really hits, in case you change your mind. But I won’t come back up. You can text me. I’ll come. You don’t have to justify it, Tony. If you want me to, I’ll stay. I won’t hold it against you, I won’t take it to mean something that it doesn’t. I made a promise to you, three years ago, that I’d be there for you in this, and I’m going to keep it. I can’t lie and say it won’t mean anything to me, to get to hold you again, but as soon as you want me to, I’ll leave.”

Tony didn’t look up from the floor. The heat under his skin crackled hotter now, almost painful. He could do it alone, he’d done it before. Before Steve. When he’d come back from Afghanistan and the doctors had told him he couldn’t take the suppressants anymore. He’d managed, he always had. But with Steve… with Steve it hadn’t felt like a curse anymore. It’d felt like a blessing, that they got to share that. A perfect excuse to spend three days wrapped up in each other and say “fuck off” to the world.

It was coming on faster now, Tony could feel the twinges, the heavy throbbing in his core, like his heart filled the entire space within his body.

He could do it alone.

Tony looked up and found Steve watching him with deep, painful longing in his eyes. He schooled it away, locked it up somewhere private, when Tony snapped their gazes together, but he wasn’t fast enough to hide it completely. “Alpha,” Tony whispered, and Steve broke. He stumbled forward and caught Tony in his arms, clutching him to his chest and burrowing into his neck, breathing him in.

Finally, finally, Steve started radiating the sweet, calming pheromones he should have been the moment he smelled his omega going into heat but had been too stressed to before. “Ugh, that’s good,” Tony whimpered, scenting him aggressively. Steve tipped his chin up and let Tony rub his cheek along his neck then down over the scar from their bonding.

“What do you want, Tony? Please tell me what you want before it really hits. I need to know what’s okay.”

Tony’s hands clenched on Steve’s hips. Everything ached with longing, with despair, with loss. He wanted to be free of it, just for three days, he wanted to give in. “I want it to be how it used to be,” he said, and he hated how broken it sounded.

Steve stroked the pads of his thumbs over Tony’s cheeks as if he were wiping away invisible tears. “Me too.”


	3. When You're Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Honey, I love you, you know I do, and I think you’re gorgeous and incredible and perfect every day, but when you’re like this -”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pre-serum Steve, insecure Steve, suggestive content.
> 
> Rated: T

“Honey, I love you, you know I do, and I think you’re gorgeous and incredible and perfect every day, but when you’re like this -” **  
**

“I get it,” Steve growled, crossing his bony arms over his thin chest. “You still love me, but you’re not attracted to me like this. It’s fine Tony. I wouldn’t be either. You don’t have to make excuses. I’ll stay away until the magic wears off.”

Steve turned to go, but Tony slammed his hand against the wall, mere inches from Steve’s head, halting his path. Tony leaned in until he loomed over Steve, caged between his arms. The arc reactor, freshly returned to his chest, ached, but he ignored it, focused entirely on the suddenly smaller man trapped by his body. “Oh no, sweetheart. That’s not it at all.” His voice rumbled, low in his chest. Something new, vibrant and needy was curling to life inside him. Tony’s fingers itched to move, to grab. He pressed closer. He growled. “You, like this… makes me want to _take.”_

“Oh god.” Steve’s eyes blew black, and he swallowed heavily. He went limp under Tony’s weight with his next breath. His eyes flashed up at Tony, filled with a flavour of challenge he’d never seen before. “Alright…” Steve breathed. “Take me.”


	4. Not a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony not-so-subtly checked his watch again then suppressed a sigh. Thirty-six minutes. He’d been sitting here like an idiot, completely silent, for thirty-six minutes, while Steve gushed over a woman in bright pink overalls with a pencil stuck in her wild, blonde hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jealous!Tony, insecure!Tony, somewhat clueless Steve, happy ending.
> 
> Rated: T

Tony not-so-subtly checked his watch again then suppressed a sigh. Thirty-six minutes. He’d been sitting here like an idiot, completely silent, for thirty-six minutes, while Steve gushed over a woman in bright pink overalls with a pencil stuck in her wild, blonde hair. **  
**

Tony had thought it was going well. He’d managed to ask Steve to go out for lunch without any of the other Avengers hearing and tagging along. The cafe he’d chosen was the perfect balance of presentable and comfortable. Conversation had flowed easily between them, and as their meal had gone on, they’d shifted closer, leaning over the table to share space.

Steve had even stolen a cherry tomato off Tony’s plate with a wink and a smile.

As far as first dates went, it was one of the better ones Tony had ever had. Right up until “Oh my god, it’s Tabitha Fortis” had wafted through the door, bringing with her a cloud of paint and fixative fumes, and Steve’s eyes had lit up like a puppy being given a brand new soft toy.

Tony hadn’t stood a chance, really. Now they were gushing over acrylics and gouache, and Tony was the wobbly, squeaky third wheel, who tried to break into a polite, interested smile whenever Steve shot a look his way. But those looks were getting fewer and farther between, and, really, at thirty-six minutes, it was time to admit your date was now on a date with someone else and bow out gracefully, right?

Tony shifted again, poking his phone, but he jostled it too hard, and it smacked his long-empty coffee cup, making it rattle on its saucer. Steve startled up, as if out of a dream. He looked at his watch. “Oh gosh, Ms. Fortis, I’m so sorry. I’ve kept you so long.”

“Oh no!” She rested a hand on Steve’s arm, and Tony glared at it, willing it to burst into flames. It didn’t. “Tabitha, please. And not at all, Steve. It was a _delight_  talking to you. Your perspective on colour theory is so refreshing!”

“Thank you so much.” Steve blushed and all but batted his eyelashes. Tony took a long blink to cover up his eye roll.

Tony had paid about sixteen hours and seventeen types of paintbrushes ago, so when Steve stood, Tony bustled him right out the door before he could get engaged to any other famous artists who also happened to not be Tony. They set off down the street, Steve radiating the healthy glow of a man in love and Tony radiating, he suspected, the surly funk of an engineer who got one-upped by a woman who had two different coloured socks on.

“You should’ve asked for her number,” Tony said, perhaps a bit harshly, shoving his sunglasses on then stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“Why?”

Tony blinked at him. “So you could ask her out, obviously. She was into you, and you obviously adore her.”  _And want to marry her, move to Virginia with her, and have all her little artist babies,_  Tony finished in his head.

But Steve stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing the rush of people to part awkwardly around them. Then all he said was, “Oh.”

“What?”

Steve’s ears flushed pink. “I - uh - I thought this was a date? You and me. I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood.”

Tony waited for the punchline. Or for a piano to fall on his head. When neither of those things happened, he decided all he could do was tell the truth. “I thought it was a date too.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “But now you’re trying to set me up with Tabitha?”

Tony resisted the urge to say,  _Oh it’s Tabitha, now, is it?_ “Well, I assumed I must have been wrong about it being a date when you started flirting intensely with someone else.” He shuffled, scuffing his toe against the sidewalk. It sucked, really sucked, because Steve was everything Tony wanted, all wrapped up in a glorious supersoldier package, who probably also had a glorious supersoldier package, which now Tony would likely never get to see.

Steve’s mouth fell open. “I wasn’t - I wasn’t  _flirting!”_  He looked around him as if one of the strangers walking by would stop and back him up. “I wasn’t flirting, Tony. She’s amazing. Her work with oil paint is revolutionary. You should see how she approaches colour. It’s -  _it blows my mind.”_  Tony remained unmoved. There had definitely been some cheeky grins and doe eyes. “Look. It’s like - imagine you met - uh - Einstein. In a cafe.”

“Steven.”

“Seriously,” Steve begged. “She’s that cool. I love in her a completely platonic, wannabe artist kind of way. I wish, wish I could make my lines flow like hers. That’s it.”

“It’s alright, I get it.”

But Steve was still looking at him sadly. He reached out and wound his fingers through Tony’s, tugging him closer. “I don’t think you do…” Steve fitted their bodies lightly together and brushed his lips against Tony’s. “I really, really want it to be a date. There’s no one else on this planet I want to go on a date with more than you. Not even Tabitha Fortis.”

Tony let out a shaky breath. That was - that was good. “Okay, yeah me too, like way too much probably.” He snuck another chaste kiss before shifting out of Steve’s space in case anyone had their camera phone out. Steve set off walking again, Tony’s hand still caught in his. Tony wiggled his fingers until they were wound more firmly together. Steve’s hand managed to fit perfectly in his.

“I’m really sorry, Tony. I’m so comfortable with you that I didn’t really think about how awful that was. It was so cool to meet her, but it was incredibly rude of me to ignore you. I lost track of time.” Steve rocked their hands gently between them. “Can we try again? I promise I won’t ruin it this time.”

“You didn’t ruin it!” Tony insisted. Steve’s hand was warm and comforting in his, and well, if he got a second date out of it, Tabitha Fortis’ stupid hair didn’t seem quite so annoying anymore. “I’m glad you got to meet your Art Einstein, honestly. She seemed very cool.”

Steve grinned. “That’s easier to say when you know you’ve got nothing to worry about, isn’t it?”

“Immensely.”

“So… it was a date?”

Tony shuffled up against Steve’s side then turned them away from the tower and down a side street. The ice cream place by the park would still be open. “Still is,” he said.


	5. Any Time At All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets a text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Infinity War, post-CACW, IW spoilers, angst, feels, textfic

[11:23] Tony: Hey.

[11:24] Steve: Tony?

[11:24] Tony: Yeah.

[11:26] Steve: Oh my god, how are you? Is everything okay?

[11:28] Tony: There’s some shit going down. I need to call you. But I

[11:28] Steve: Of course you can call me.

[11:28] Tony: wanted to warn you first. Or something.

[11:29] Steve: You can call me. I meant what I said. Anything you need.

[11:32] Tony: Yeah. I can’t explain it in text.

[11:32] Steve: Call me. Do you want me to call you? I’ll wait. You tell me what you want.

[11:36] Steve: I can’t wait to hear your voice.

[11:36] Tony: One sec…

[11:36] Steve: I know that’s probably not fair of me to say, since I never called you either.

[11:37] Steve: And I assume something horrible is happening.

[11:37] Steve: But I can’t wait to hear your voice, Tony.

[11:51] Steve: Tony?

[12:02] Steve: Tony, please call me.

[12:21] Steve: I’m going to call you.

_Outgoing call…._

[12:23] Steve: Tony pick up.

[12:24] Steve: Please.

[12:24] Steve: Just tell me everything’s okay.

_Incoming call… Tony Stark_

“Tony…”

“Oh my god, Steve?”

  
  


“…Bruce?”


	6. Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Some of you are going to have to share,” Laura said, offering the table an apologetic smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AoU, angst with a happy ending, feels, a distinct lack of bedsharing.

“Some of you are going to have to share,” Laura said, offering the table an apologetic smile. **  
**

Steve very carefully didn’t look at Tony, even though his entire body was yearning in that direction. He wasn’t sure if it would be more awkward or less if the two of them ended up paired together. He hadn’t talked to or seen Tony since their argument out by the woodpile. Tony had come back inside from fixing the tractor with a sad smile and Fury in tow, just in time for dinner, and he’d been nothing but stiffly polite towards Steve since then.

With the gang all gathered together, they both carefully didn’t mention their fight, sticking to the topic at hand, but Steve could feel Tony’s words burning in the back of his mind. He cringed when he remembered the anger that had welled up within him. It wasn’t fair to take it out on Tony - Tony had no idea what the witch had shown Steve. And he’d have to tell him, eventually, but he didn’t want to. He knew how Tony would take it. That Steve wasn’t happy in his new life, Steve wanted to go back, to go home.

But it wasn’t true. He’d built a life here, one brick at a time, and that was the true terror of his nightmare. He’d finally managed a family again, finally found love and friendship in his life again, and it could just as easily be ripped away from him, as it had before. He was the perfect soldier, and the perfect soldier gave his life for his cause, right? Seve had done so, over and over, and yet he knew he’d be asked to again, and he didn’t know if he could.

Tony wanted to end this in one fell swoop, to send everyone home from the frontlines. Steve didn’t know if that was possible for him anymore. But what Tony didn’t know, was how badly Steve wanted to try. It wasn’t as easy as programming a new computer. This freedom, this end, it was going to be hard fought. It was going to come at a cost. It always came at a cost.

Laura told Steve he’d be sharing the guest room with Nat, and Steve nodded, tight-lipped wondering how much her witnessing his fight with Tony had influenced that decision.

**

Tony rubbed the scrub brush over the plate without paying it any attention. It was clean now, but he kept tracing careful circles around and around the china, the warm, soapy water, long having turned cold and greasy, but he couldn’t find the energy to turn the tap on again.

He’d been assigned to stay in Cooper’s room, on his bottom bunk, which would have been fine - Tony liked kids and Cooper had turned out to be somewhat of a firecracker - but as Clint had slipped off to bed, he’d leaned in close and whispered “Sorry, Pal, Cooper snores like a freight train,” then disappeared.

Tony sighed. Laura had insisted they leave the rest of the dishes for her tomorrow, but he’d found himself entirely unable to let his feet carry him upstairs, as exhausted as he was, because he didn’t want to lie awake in bed, listening to Cooper saw logs, and think, endlessly, about how horribly this had all gone.

But that was probably his only choice; he just kept putting it off.

He couldn’t pretend the plate was still dirty, so he finally flicked on the tap and rinsed it off then put it in the drainer to dry. That was the last of them. He was out of excuses.

He supposed the other reason why he’d been putting this off was that he so desperately didn’t want to run into Steve upstairs in the hall, brushing his teeth in his stupid adorable sweatpants. Tony would almost inevitably say something idiotic and make this fight stretch out even longer.

He hated fighting.

But Steve was built for fighting, created for fighting, he didn’t know any other way to be. He was a soldier though and through, and Tony had basically told him that his goal in life was to make him obsolete. No wonder Steve was angry.

“You could have saved us.”

“Why didn’t you do more.”

Tony knew, consciously, that it was only his brain projecting his own fears on Steve, but he couldn’t help but hear those words over and over in his mind in Steve’s voice. He was trying. He was trying to do more. But he kept failing.

And maybe this time, Steve wouldn’t forgive him.

**

Steve lay back on the bed and watched Natasha grumble around the room, a rain cloud over her head. It was clear that something was tense and unpleasant between her and Bruce, and he didn’t want to push, but the leader in him was desperate to know. What if this affected the lullaby? What if Bruce was at risk of Hulking out again, and now they had no way of bringing him back down?

He certainly couldn’t ask Tony to go after him again, not after what he’d just been through. Steve didn’t think anyone else had noticed, but the bruises on Tony’s hips and wrists showed just how physical piloting Veronica was.

“You alright?” he tried, and she ran a stiff hand through her hair and sat down hard on the bed.

“Not sure yet.” She crawled across the duvet and stretched out beside him. “Maybe soon. You?”

“Yeah. Soon. I hope.” But not until he talked to Tony.

“They pulled us apart like tissue paper out there,” she said.

“I know.” Steve wriggled down further into the bed. Natasha’s presence was soothing, and some of the frustration and anger from the afternoon faded. He wondered if Clint had paired them for a reason, hid behind Laura as the messenger. As much as he appreciated that, he still wished Tony were the one lying beside him right now. Except that would only lead to more fighting.

“We’ll be alright,” Nat said and Steve let out a long slow breath, and turned to catch her eye.

“I hope so.”

**

Cooper did indeed snore. Tony stared up at the underside of the bunk between them, rough, grating noises filling the room. He wondered if Clint had put him here as some kind of punishment or if it was that he knew Tony wouldn’t be sleeping tonight anyway, so he might as well get the shitty roomate.

He thought about bumping the bottom of the mattress above him - not hard, just enough to pop the kid out of sleep - but immediately rolled his eyes at himself. He couldn’t do that. This kid was lucky to be insomnia free. Tony was just jealous.

And of course, in the dark, all alone, all Tony could think about was Steve. Their argument earlier. The way Steve had looked at him. And how was it that he’d come out of this unscathed? It was a little scary maybe, but mostly upsetting. Steve, the strongest of them, had been whammied by the witch, and all of his anger was only directed at Tony and at Ultron. Maybe the witch hadn’t even shown him anything.

The rest of them were quiet, obviously walking wounded, and Tony didn’t even have to ask to know what they’d seen. Clint was fine, he hadn’t been hit, but Nat had a darkness in her eyes that Tony had never seen before, and Bruce - well, Bruce was barely talking at all.

So Steve had managed to wiggle out of something that’d had its grip on Tony for weeks without reltenting, in less an hour. What had she shown him? The team dying as well? Tony dying? Maybe Steve didn’t care.

Or maybe he was just that much stronger than Tony.

Tony thought about going to Steve’s room to talk to him. The longer they let this fester, the worse it was going to be, and he knew that it was his fault they hadn’t talked about it yet, but that didn’t stop him from hesitating.

Cooper let out another grunting wheeze, and Tony rolled out of bed. Talking to Steve was still better than lying here and listening to that.

He padded silently down the hall in his socked feet. He’d seen Steve and Nat go into the room at the end of the hall, so that must be theirs. He stopped outside the door and leaned in, raising one fist to knock. He could do this.

“- like tissue paper out there,” came drifting out of the room, and Tony hesitated. Nat and Steve were talking about the battle. Talking about it in the calm, careful way Tony couldn’t seem to manage. It made sense. They’d always been close.

He couldn’t interrupt that. Tony turned and walked away.

**

Steve held up a finger, and Nat fell silent. Had he just heard someone outside their room? There had been a little shuffle and a huff of breath. His mind immediately turned to Tony, imagined him out there, wanting to talk to Steve. Steve waited for a knock, but none came. He lowered his hand again. “Sorry, thought I heard something.”

“That’s fine.” Nat sighed then rolled onto her back and stretched. “I think I just want to go to sleep after all. You know how sometimes it all catches up with you at once?”

“Yeah.”

“Goodnight Steve.”

“Night Nat.”

He leaned over and flicked off the light, plunging them into darkness. Nat rolled over once, and less than a minute later, he could hear her breathing soften. It seemed one of her many skills was that she could fall asleep instantly anywhere and awaken perfectly between one heartbeat and the next. It was probably necessary, considering all the bizarre places she’d likely had to find her rest.

But Steve wasn’t like that. He’d never been great at sleeping. When he was young, his aches and pains would flare up at night, and, more often than not, he’d have an asthma attack as soon as he did fall asleep which would leave him gasping for breath, exhausted. And even when all of that was gone and he was strong and healthy, he still struggled to sleep. No one slept well in the army. A combination of being packed in like sardines, the weather, the bugs, the mud. It all made it nearly impossible. A lot of people did better when they got back, but Steve never adjusted. He’d lie awake, and it would be either too loud or too quiet, no matter what.

And when he had something on his mind, it was even worse. Tony was just down the hall, in Cooper’s room, sleeping. Probably sleeping easily, and Steve couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Unless that noise outside the door had been Tony. Maybe he’d come here to talk to Steve. Steve peered through the darkness at Nat’s slowly rising and falling side then pushed out of bed. If only it were Tony beside him, then they’d have all night to talk this out.

He’d just check. If Tony was asleep, he’d go to sleep too and maybe tomorrow they could start fresh.

Tony was in Cooper’s room, Steve knew that much, and it wasn’t hard to find with a little wooden sign on the door, a train with each letter of Cooper’s name a separate car. Steve pressed his ear to the door. He could hear snoring inside, so someone was asleep. It wasn’t Tony though; Tony didn’t snore at all. But if Cooper was asleep, there was no way for Steve to find out if Tony was up without potentially waking Cooper as well. And that wasn’t fair. A shiver rippled down Steve’s spine. It was cold in this big, drafty farmhouse at night.

He hesitated, battling with the desire to crack the door and see if he could see Tony’s form in the dark, but he resisted. All of this was hard enough on the kids without Captain America barging in on them at night.

Steve went back to his own room and crawled into bed beside Natasha. She slept, but he knew he wouldn’t.

**

Tony sat up, narrowly avoiding bashing his head on the underside of the top bunk above him. He pulled the headphones out of his ears and set his tablet aside. Had he seen the light flicker under the door? Was someone out there?

Steve?

He crossed the room to stand in front of the door. “Steve?” he hissed, but there was no answer.

Clint didn’t have a cat did he? Tony had definitely seen the light flicker as if feet were walking past the door. He turned the knob as silently as he could and pulled the door open. The hall was empty. He sighed.

This was ridiculous. If he wanted to talk to Steve so badly that he was hallucinating, he should just go for it, other sleepers be damned.

He stepped back to tuck his tablet under his pillow so the notification light wouldn’t bother Cooper then turned back towards the door. But as he stepped out into the hall, movement had him shying back into the darkness of his room again.

Bruce. Slinking along past the other doors and stopping in front of Steve and Nat’s. Tony resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall which would surely wake everyone up. Bruce knocked softly, and the door sprung open almost immediately. Was is just Tony, or did Steve look disappointed? Maybe he was expecting someone else?

Nat appeared a moment later, blinking and yawning. She stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind her, with Steve still inside. The look on her face suggested they might be talking for some time.

Tony leaned back against the door frame and waited for a few minutes, but even though he couldn’t hear, it still gave him the intense feeling of eavesdropping, and that was too uncomfortable. He climbed back into bed and pulled out his tablet again.

**

Steve sat up in bed, his back against the wall. He could hear Natasha and Bruce talking out in the hallway and it was hard to ignore. He tried to tune them out, but his options seemed to be stressing about Tony or eavesdropping, and neither was very appealing. He was considering digging around in Nat’s bag to see if she had any headphones, when the door opened and both Nat and Bruce slipped inside.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Bruce is sharing with Fury, and we don’t want to talk in the hall. Is it alright if we talk in here. It won’t be too long.”

“Of course,” Steve waved deferentially. “I can’t sleep anyway. I was going to go grab a glass of water.”

“Thanks, Steve.” Bruce gave him a sad smile.

The two of them curled up in the corner on a bench and spoke quietly, heads together. Steve stepped out. There were three doors to his left, the bathroom, then Tony’s door on the other side, then Clint and Laura’s door at the end of the hall. Fury was asleep at the other end, in Lila’s room, and Lila was in with her parents.

Steve took three steps towards the bathroom then stopped. He’d been kicked out of his own room. It was as good an excuse as any to knock on Tony’s door. He took one more step then screeched to a halt. The door at the end of the hall was opening.

It was too late to hide anywhere, and a moment later, Laura Barton appeared. She frowned at Steve and stepped closer, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Captain, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Steve realized he’d jolted back a step at her appearance, and he forced himself to relax. “No, no. It’s fine. I didn’t think anyone else was up.”

“I think everyone else is up,” she said, with a knowing twinkle. And Steve resisted the urge to blush. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. You don’t need anything do you? More blankets?”

“Everything is just fine, Mrs. Barton. Thank you again for opening your home to us,” Steve said politely,

She coloured prettily. “Oh god, just Laura, please.”

“Only if you call me Steve.” He shot her the smile that had all the USO girls swooning - or so he’d been told - and her blush deepened.

“Thank you. Well, as long as everyone’s okay, I’ll head back to bed.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.” She disappeared back into her room, and Steve slipped into the bathroom. He drank down two full glasses of cool water then splashed more on his face. This entire night was such a mess. All he wanted was to talk to Tony, to work this out, to make sure they were still okay. And all the world seemed to want was to keep them apart.

He sat down on the fluffy, orange toilet cover and tipped his face into his hands.

**

Laura and Steve’s voices rumbled outside, but they were talking too quietly for Tony to make out the words. Steve was out there, though. This time, he was sure. He stood up and shook out his arms like a boxer getting ready for a fight.

You can do this, Tony. As soon as Laura leaves, you get out there.

The voices continued for a moment, then fell silent. Footsteps padded down the hall, and the Bartons’ bedroom door opened and closed. Tony took a steadying breath and darted outside.

The hallway was empty.

He bit back a curse and marched down the hall. This was it. He was done messing around. He knocked on the door, no longer caring if he woke Nat. But it was Bruce who answered the door. He looked past him into the bedroom and saw Nat sitting on a bench in the corner and no sign of Steve.

“Where’s Steve?”

Bruce shrugged. “I think he went to get a drink? He said he’d give us privacy for a bit. We have some things to talk about.”

“Right. Of course. Good - uh - good luck with that.” Tony shot Nat a little wave then stepped back so Bruce could close the door again.

If Steve had gone to get a drink, Tony could meet him downstairs. The house was chilly, and Tony only had his back-up t-shirt and some sweatpants of Clint’s on, but he didn’t want to go all the way back into his room for a sweater and, yet again, risk waking Cooper. The floorboards creaked ominously underfoot, surely much louder to Tony than they were to anyone else.

The kitchen was empty.

It was exactly as Tony had left it, not even a water glass on the counter to announce Steve’s presence. Maybe Steve had gone into Fury’s room to sleep, after all, trading with Bruce. And Tony couldn’t bear to go back upstairs. Back into the tension and frustration and guilt they were all wallowing in, heavy, like a fog, or a disgusting soup of oppressive self-judgement. The quinjet had been full of it on the way back, and now they were all stinking up Clint’s house with it.

A rustling wind chime drew Tony’s attention, and he slipped out the front door to follow the soft noise. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair. It smelled like summer out here, all the time. It was kind of amazing, really. There was nothing but fields, and trees, and vast emptiness as far as the eye could see, which, granted, wasn’t as far as usual in the pressing dark. But it was still soothingly quiet, devoid of aliens and wormholes and HYDRA weapons and teenagers who could turn your brain inside out.

So Tony curled up on the porch swing and rocked gently back and forth, waiting for morning.

**

Steve sat up, pulling his face out of his hands. That was Tony’s voice he heard. Tony was awake? He stood, wiped his still-damp face on a towel, and poked his head into the hall. He couldn’t see anyone, but the door to his and Nat’s room was just closing, and a moment later, he caught the creak of old hardwood coming from the stairs.

Refusing to miss him this time, Steve took off after the sound. Tony disappeared around the corner, and Steve crept after him, watching as he slipped out the front door and onto the porch. Steve looked out through the window and watched Tony settle on the porch swing, one foot tucked up, the bare toes from the other foot stretching down to rock him slowly back and forth.

It was cold out there.

Steve gabbed an afghan off the back of the couch and slipped out the door after him. Tony’s head popped up at the noise, over the back of the swing.

“Steve.”

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Tony didn’t quite smile, but he softened, like he’d let out a tense breath and was breathing easily again. Steve slung the blanket around Tony’s shoulders and settled on the bench swing next to him, letting out his own breath when Tony wrapped the blanket around his shoulders too and curled up close beside him. Steve rocked the swing softly, the way Tony had been, and tucked one arm around his waist, pulling him in even closer. He buried his face in Tony’s hair and breathed in. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.” Tony pressed his face to Steve’s chest. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me.”

“Oh, Tony. Just because we fight doesn’t mean I stop loving you. I know there’s a lot to talk about, a lot to sort out. But it can wait. I almost lost you today - I was so scared. Can I just hold you and know you’re alright?”

“Of course,” Tony said softly, and Steve started stroking his fingers up and down his spine.

**

Tony was quiet for a long time, basking in Steve’s presence. “I’m so fucking scared,” he finally admitted, and he felt Steve’s arm tightened around him. He reached across Steve’s lap and wound their fingers together.

“Me too. But we can do this. We can all do this. Together.”

“We won’t be together tomorrow.”

Steve let go of Tony’s hand to bring his fingers to his chin, tip it up until their eyes met. “We will be,” he said firmly, and something in Tony settled.

Tony automatically leaned up for a kiss, and to his immense relief, Steve met him halfway. Tomorrow, tomorrow they would part. But tonight, Tony got to hold his lover in his arms. He had to believe everything would be okay - it had to be. Because he couldn’t go on without this. They’d fight and they’d yell, and sometimes it would get scary, and sometimes they would both say cruel things they didn’t mean. But as long as they found each other again, it would be okay.

Tony turned back to face the swaying field in front of them. A tiny sliver of red light was breaching the horizon. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.”

They sat that way, in the growing dawn, watching the sunrise pierce the gloomy sky with its rays. They heard the birds sing their good mornings, and the shuffle of animals in the barn. They watched the beginning of a new day.

Together.


	7. Anytime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony always knows how to fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Team Feels, Tony fixes everything, but what about when he needs fixing?, arc reactor

“Dammit.“ Nat sat down heavily on her seat in the quinjet and shook her wrist out. The thin blue lines of her Widow’s Bites flickered and died. **  
**

Steve leaned forward to ask her what was wrong, but Tony was there a second sooner, grabbing Nat’s wrist and pulling it into the light. He popped open the casing, poking wires and muttering to himself without bothering to take it off her arm.

"Um, Tony?” she asked.

“Hmm?” He looked up. “Oh. Don’t worry, I can fix this.”

By the next battle, Nat’s Bites were back to perfect working order.

“Thanks, Tony.” She kissed the cheek of the Iron Man armour before she ran off towards their enemy.

“Anytime.”

**

They were just settling down to a meeting when an ear-splitting hissing noise broke through the calm quiet. Clint leapt to his feet. “No, no, no!” He ran into the kitchen and the others got up to follow him.

The coffeemaker was spewing brown water all over the kitchen, the hissing having shifted to a sad whine. Clint braved the deluge to smack the off button and, after a moment longer, the spray slowed then fizzled out with a depressing bubbling.

Clint pulled out the empty carafe and stared at it, expression heartbreaking. “No…”

Tony pressed past Steve’s shoulder, and Steve was sure he’d ask JARVIS to order a new one any moment, but instead he popped the front off the machine and pulled out the pieces, covering the once clean counters with coffee grounds-covered bits and bobs.

“Don’t worry, Barton,” he said cheerfully. “I can fix it.”

The next morning, Steve woke before the sun, as he often did, and when he came downstairs for his breakfast, the kitchen was clean once more and the coffeemaker was back in once piece, gleaming and happy. There was a sticky note on it that read:

_All better! :) -T_

Steve plucked it off and looked at it. “JARVIS, how late was Tony up fixing this?”

“Mr. Stark went to bed forty-three minutes ago, Captain.”

Steve frowned at his watch. Tony would be up again in only two hours. He replaced the sticky note, smoothing it out, then returned to making his morning meal.

When Clint came down a few hours later, he pulled out his phone. Steve heard Tony’s voice through the speaker. “Thanks, man!” Clint said.

“Anytime!”

**

Steve and Tony were reading quietly in the library when Bruce shoved through the door, his own personal storm cloud following him.

“What’s wrong, gummy bear?” Tony asked, setting his book down.

Bruce sat down heavily in an armchair with a huff. “I was going to go to that conference upstate about advances in gamma radiation sensing technology, but my car won’t start. The mechanic can’t come out and look at it until Monday so I guess I have to Skype in.”

Tony snorted. He tossed his book aside and stood. “Don’t be silly, Bruce. I can fix that.”

“You don’t have to do that, Tony. You were relaxing.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s my pleasure.”

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Steve watched Tony lead Bruce out of the library and down to the garage.

**

“I can’t hear you!” Thor yelled at his laptop screen, startling Steve out of his heavy doze on the couch. Thor sat at the table in the corner, scowling at the StarkTech laptop Tony had given him.

“Thor, what’s wrong?” Steve asked, sitting up. He was still muggy with sleep.

Thor gestured at the screen. “I’m attempting this video chat with my Jane, but, though I can see her speaking, I can’t hear anything. Something ails the computer.”

Steve heard shuffling by the door, and Tony appeared, typing on his phone. Steve turned back to Thor. “You can borrow mine.”

“Do you have the Skype set up?”

“No, sorry.”

Thor sighed. “My lovely Jane only has half an hour to talk, and we’re going to waste it.”

“What’s up?” Tony asked, his phone gone from his hands.

“Thor’s Skype isn’t working right,” Steve explained.

Tony frowned then shucked off his suit jacket. He crossed the room, abandoning the sandwich he’d started assembling on the kitchen counter. “I can fix that.”

Steve watched quietly while Tony sat with Thor and walked him through the steps to alter his laptop settings. A few minutes later, Jane’s voice rang out through the speakers, and Thor cheered with pleasure. They immediately fell into conversation.

Tony stood, smiling softly and walked back towards the kitchen then stopped. He looked at his watch, swore quietly then headed for the door instead, his snack forgotten. Thor called out before he could disappear completely. “Tony!”

Tony paused. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He waved a hand dismissively, but Steve could see him smiling. “Anytime.”

**

Steve checked his watch again. The takeout was almost cold, the rest of the team long since departed, and Tony still hadn’t appeared. Steve huffed a sigh and poked at the styrofoam containers he’d tucked to the side to save for Tony. He sat in indecision for five more minutes before giving up and stacking the boxes in his arms. At the very least, he could put them down in Tony’s mini-fridge and JARVIS would remind him to eat them tomorrow.

The door to the lab was closed, and when Steve knocked, no one answered, but it swung open. Steve stepped into the room, Tony’s name catching in his throat when his eyes found who he’d come looking for.

All the lights were off except for a small desk lamp, and that included - terrifyingly - the blue of the arc reactor. Tony was wearing one of his tank tops with a circular hole cut in the middle and he was leaning over his desk, a thick wire travelling from the reactor - which was in pieces in front of him - into the empty hole in his chest.

Steve froze, throat seizing up. Tony without the arc reactor and the reactor without its glow haunted his dreams more often than not. There was a light sheen of sweat across Tony’s brow, but otherwise he looked fine as he poked at the pieces laid out in front of him, but that didn’t stop Steve from stumbling across the room, dropping the food containers on the couch and landing both hands on the desk.

“Tony?!”

Tony startled up. “Shit, Steve! Don’t give me a heart attack when it’s not even in my chest.”

“Oh, fuck.” Steve slapped a hand over his mouth. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’re fine.” But Steve could see the way he shifted and squirmed and the pinch to the corners of his eyes.

“I just came to bring you dinner.”

“Thank you.”

Steve tried to turn to go, but he knew the vision of Tony in pieces was going to occupy his mind until he saw him whole again. “Tony… are you okay?”

Tony’s mouth tensed into a firm line. “It’s - I -” He sighed and set his tools down then ran a hand over his face. “There’s a broken piece, but this model is still the best of the lot. If I change it out entirely, I’ll have to modify the coupling too and… it’s a huge process. So, I really want to fix this one, but -” He cut off, and his brow creased. Steve longed to stroke it smooth again. “My hands are shaking too much,” Tony finally admitted quietly.

They hung in complete silence for one slow breath then Steve reached out and grabbed a stool from the corner. He pulled it up to the other side of the desk, facing Tony, and settled on it. He laid his hands flat on the desktop next to the pieces, careful not the touch anything. Tony’s fingers twitched and shook, but Steve’s were rock steady. “What do you need me to do?” he asked, voice pitched low since Tony was so close.

Tony swallowed heavily. “There’s a screw right there,” he finally said. He pointed then held out a tiny screwdriver.

Steve took the tool and slotted it carefully into the screw, hyper aware that this wasn’t just a piece of machinery he was working on, it was a piece of Tony.

Tony guided him through it slowly but surely, his voice steady even when the rest of him started to shake.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked more than once, and Tony nodded tensely each time.

When the broken part had been replaced and the reactor was back in one piece, Steve sat back, expecting Tony to pick it up, but he had both hands braced over the edge of the desk, knuckles white. “You can just slot it in,” he said, strained. “It’ll click.”

Steve cradled the reactor in one hand, braced his other on Tony’s shoulder and eased it into place. It did click, and Steve spread his fingers over it, only breathing again when the blue light flickered back to life under his palm.  Tony let out a shaky breath too and slumped back in his chair, eyes falling closed.

Steve squeezed his shoulder once then moved to back off, but Tony’s hand darted up and caught his wrist. His eyes opened. “Thank you.” He reeled Steve in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Steve brushed his fingers over the front of the reactor once more then stepped back. “Tony? Anytime.”


	8. In-Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, flying commercial is worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Established relationship, fluff, soft.

Tony tilted to the side until his forehead pressed against the permanently-smudged plexiglass masquerading as a window. There were reasons he usually flew on his own jet, and the presence of so many fingerprints left by other travellers was certainly one of them. And nose prints. **  
**

The sun pierced through the sky aggressively, and Tony had to blink his eyes to clear the spots. He sat up, looking down so he could see the tops of the fluffy clouds below them. Light glinted between them, sparkling the lakes and rivers that cut through the Lego-Land sprawl they passed over. They were finally starting to slip lower.

Tony’s tray was still open, because no one had come to take the remains of his stale cookies and ginger ale - what the fuck was the point of paying for business class if he didn’t even get a decent cookie? - and there was nowhere else to put it. Tony asked himself for the nineteenth time why he hadn’t waited for a flight with a proper first class instead of this one-more-inch-of-leg-room-and-get-sloshed-for-free business class shit.

But he knew the answer. Waiting really wasn’t an option.

The plane hummed all around him, in that fundamental plane way. It rattled his teeth and set into his bones, and he knew when he stepped off, he’d feel a bit wobbly, like he’d walked too fast on a moving sidewalk and then suddenly hit solid ground again. The world would feel a bit different, a bit off-kilter - too loud and too quiet at the same time, with the thrum of the jet engines gone. The weather would be wrong, the sun too high in the sky, and he’d be both starving and a little nauseous all at once.

But there would be strong arms waiting for him, at arrivals, strong, open, grasping arms that would tug him in close, suffocate him in affection. Lips that would burrow into his hair, find his forehead and kiss it, over and over. There would be a hand in his, all through the drive home, and, for the first time in five weeks, a chest under his cheek as he fell asleep that night.

There would be soft questions, quiet laughter, a thumb smoothing away the creases that travel always bent into the corners of his eyes. He’d get a good chuckle when he tucked the mug he’d bought at the duty free into eager hands. He’d get a firm, claiming kiss when he smirked and told the story of the woman at the ticket desk who’d tried to get his number. He’d get a hug - wrapped whole and tight around him - whenever he wanted, which would be often.

And he’d get all of it four and half hours sooner because he’d chosen this flight.

That was worth flying commercial.


	9. Sweet Melody

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's eyes were just drifting shut, the call of a nap on this lazy Sunday afternoon too strong to resist, when a soft strain of music wafted through the door, as if carried in on a slight breeze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft, music, love.
> 
> Rated: T

Steve sat up and stretched, wincing when something in his back popped and slipped. Even supersoldiers could apparently throw their back out by reading in the same awkward position for three hours. He smoothed his hand over the back cover with a soft smile. Resurfacing from a good book was always a bit of a process, tugging up out of another world and back into his own. **  
**

Steve tipped his head back until it hung over the arm of the couch. He stretched again, and the pop in his back and the groan of his legs were pleasant this time. There was a dark line of… something on the ceiling, and Steve wondered idly if Bucky and Clint had been playing paintball inside again.

His eyes were just drifting shut, the call of a nap on this lazy Sunday afternoon too strong to resist, when a soft strain of music wafted through the door, as if carried in on a slight breeze. Steve opened his eyes again and looked towards the hallway, like he could see the source there. But, of course, the music was too slight, too soft, to be that close.

Steve held his breath and focused on the tiny sound, a smooth, tinkling melody. When the music didn’t stop, but no explanation for it appeared, Steve tossed his finished book aside and stood up. He kept his footsteps quiet as he followed the delicate sound. It led him down the hallway, past the kitchen and to a turn he’d never peered around before. At the end of the hall was an open door with three stairs leading down from it.

Steve made his way to the doorway then stopped, stunned.

At the bottom of the stairs, the ceiling dropped low but then it opened up again into a huge room Steve had never seen before, despite living here for years. The room was all white, with large, padded squares covering all the walls except for a huge bank of floor-to-ceiling windows on one side. Most of the available floor space was taken up by a massive collection of instruments.

Steve blinked at them all, trying to take in everything at once. There was a shelf with at least twenty black instrument cases on it, two, large carpet tiles with drum kits on them, stands with guitars, basses, violins - everything. Half of them, Steve didn’t even recognize.

And at the centre was the most beautiful grand piano Steve had ever seen. He didn’t know much about them, but it was clear this one was expensive, old, and incredibly well cared for.

It took a moment of gawking for Steve to realize that the music hadn’t stopped; it was coming from the gorgeous piano.

His side was to Steve, but there was no question that it was Tony who sat on the bench, fingers flying over the keys. Tony’s chin was down and his eyes were closed, as he rocked slowly back and forth to the rhythm, his feet working the pedals. The notes spilled out of the instrument and filled the vast space, layering over each other.

The only reason Steve had heard it at all was that the door had been left open, but even then, it had only been the barest taste that he’d caught before. Now that he was here at the source, he could hear the complexity of the melody, the way the notes danced and teased each other, pulling together then springing apart again.

Steve took a few steps into the room, knowing he should say something to let Tony know he was here, but loathe to interrupt the song.

“It’s a story about love,” Tony said, not lifting his chin or opening his eyes.

His voice made Steve jump. Tony had known he was here all along. The open door started to take on a different flavour.

“It’s beautiful.” Steve walked over to the side of the piano and ran a finger along the wood frame, feeling it hum and vibrate with the music. “How does the story go?”

Tony’s fingers stilled, paused, cutting off the music, and Steve instantly mourned its loss. Tony looked up for the first time then pointedly shifted to the side, making room on the bench for Steve to join him. Steve sat, perching on the edge to give Tony enough space to play.

“It’s a story about two people,” Tony started.

“Love stories often are,” Steve replied with a cheeky smile.

Tony shook his head, but he was smiling too. He stretched out his hands then closed his eyes and set his fingers on the keys again. The music flowed once more, quickly filling the room until it was all Steve inhaled with every breath.

“They don’t like each other at first.” The chords became harsh and discordant, arguing back and forth, bitten-off and ice-tinged. “But things start to get better…” And sure enough, the music started to shift, slowly but surely, into order from chaos.

Tony’s whole body moved as he played, and Steve could feel Tony’s leg rubbing against his as he worked the pedal, his arm pressing into Steve’s side as his hand danced up to the higher octaves.

The soft, sweet melody that had drawn Steve here in the first place finally made an appearance, nothing more than a cameo yet, but already as familiar as an old friend to Steve. “Then, one of them starts to feel more,” Tony whispered, his voice carrying over the music easily as it faded into something soft and contemplative.

And Steve could see the story playing out in the music, the notes flirting and dancing, spinning around each other as it built and built. The sweet melody from earlier grew stronger and stronger until it overtook all the others, and Steve’s heart swelled with the emotion carried in every note.

“He falls in love.” Tony’s voice had dropped low, rough and breathless. Steve swallowed heavily, charged as a livewire. “But his friend doesn’t know. And he doesn’t know how to tell him.”

A melancholy bassline wound through, shifting the melody down, even overpowering it at times. Steve’s hands clenched into fists in his lap. He couldn’t breathe.

“But he loves him so much that sometimes he thinks he might burst with it, and he’s not sure he can hold it in anymore.”

The music built and built, stretching and reaching towards an obvious crescendo, Tony’s hands moving faster and faster as each thread of music converged into a rapid, glowing climax -

The song cut off abruptly; Tony’s hands stilled. They both sat in silence for a long time, unmoving. Finally, Tony whispered, “I don’t know how it ends…”

Steve’s heart was beating so loudly, he thought it might rival the drum kit in the corner. He turned to where Tony sat frozen, hands hovering over the keys, eyes squeezed closed. Steve leaned over and pressed his lips to Tony’s shoulder, taking the time to breathe him in, to revel in his closeness and warmth. He rested his forehead against the same spot with a soft sigh, and he felt Tony let out a stuttery breath beside him.

“It ends happily,” Steve said.


	10. Sleepy Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony tried to stay awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soft, sleepy, porn, established relationship, minor uniform kink, Steve keeps the gloves on, clothes sharing
> 
> For my bday prompts for the request "bottom Tony" for anon.
> 
> Rated: E

Tony tried to stay awake, he really did.

But first he shuffled out of his pants. Then he swapped his shirt for one of Steve’s huge SHIELD hoodies - pilfered from the hamper so it’d smell like him. He managed that way on the couch for a long time, but then, when his back complained, he crawled into bed with his laptop.

He tried to stay awake….

But when the soft  _snick-click_  of the door opening and closing snapped him out of sleep into the dark bedroom, he knew he’d failed. “Nugh,” he managed.

“Shh, go back to sleep Tony,” Steve said softly.

“No… home…” Tony smacked his lips together, trying to rub wakefulness back into his eyes.

Steve sighed. “Yeah, I’m home.” He didn’t sound quite right.

Tony reached towards his dark shape and wiggled his fingers, knowing Steve’s super-powered eyes could pick him out. Steve crossed the room in two strides and folded over Tony, arms working their way under his back so he could hold them close together. “You’re wearing my clothes,” he growled softly.

“Mmm. Missed you.”

Steve climbed fully on the bed, covering Tony completely with his solid warm weight. But there was still something off in his tone, his shoulders.

“You okay? Mission go okay?” Tony danced his fingers over the buttons and snaps of the armour Steve hadn’t removed yet. It was stiff and unyielding under Tony’s touch, but he found the edge of Steve’s collar and slipped his fingers down to stroke through the fine hairs he found at the nape of his neck.

“Yeah…” Steve sighed again, burrowing his face under Tony’s jaw. His breath was warm but his nose was cold. “Just a long couple of days.”

“Too long.”

Steve shifted, and Tony could feel the bulge in his pants, hardly contained by the kevlar padding.

“Mmm, yeah baby, show me how much you missed me,” Tony purred, chuffed at the effect he had on his lover.

Steve rumbled against Tony’s chest. “I’m all sweaty and gross.” But he didn’t move away.

“Sweetheart, I’m wearing your dirty workout sweater. I clearly don’t mind.”

Steve hummed and plucked at the fabric, slipping his fingers under the hem to splay over Tony’s stomach. Shit, he was still wearing the gloves.

“In fact…” Tony added. He ground up against Steve’s thigh to show just how into it he was.

“You sure?”

“Yes. If I wait for you to strip down and shower I’ll fall asleep again. But I need to feel you before it’s tomorrow and we’re back to our lives. Please?”

“God, Tony. Of course. Nothing I want more.” Steve nipped a kiss to the underside of Tony’s jaw then wriggled his way down the bed to settle between his legs. He pulled at Tony’s boxers, and working together they managed to get them off. Tony put his feet back on the mattress, knees folded on either side of Steve’s shoulders and breathed out heavily when Steve drew a line of hot, wet kisses up the inside of Tony’s thigh.

“Yeah, baby.” Tony tipped his head back and closed his eyes, both hands landing in Steve’s hair. It was twisted and mussed from his helmet, and Tony combed through the strands, smoothing it out again as Steve’s mouth worked its way closer to Tony’s cock. Steve’s skin was still cool, but his tongue licked a hot swathe up the length of Tony’s shaft, and he shuddered, from tip to tail, toes curling in the sheets.

Steve hummed with pleasure and closed his lips around the head, sucking lightly before swallowing him down. Any blood that had been dilly-dallying about in other places of Tony’s body immediately got with the program and charged south until Tony was so hard he could give gold-titanium alloy a run for its money.

Steve’s hands ran up Tony’s legs, the soft skin of his finger pads contrasting with the rough, well-worn leather over his palms. He swallowed, pushing Tony deeper down his throat, and Tony’s eyes rolled back in his head. Steve cradled Tony’s balls with one hand, setting a rhythm now as he bobbed his head up and down. His fingers brushed the crease of Tony’s ass, and Tony all but levitated off the bed. “Yes, yes, yes, please, now please, touch me,” Tony whined, squirming in Steve’s hold.

Steve pulled back to furrow his brow up at Tony, and Tony bit back a bereft whimper at the loss of wet heat. “Aren’t you too tired?”

“No way in hell. Not anymore. Fuck me, Captain Rogers.”

Steve’s cheeks lit up like a fireworks display, the flush cascading down his neck and into his collar, and Tony knew he had him. He rolled his hips again, rubbing his skin against the gap where Steve’s sleeve had pushed away from his glove. “Since you asked so nicely,” Steve muttered, dropping down to suck Tony down his throat again. He lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers, and Tony stretched up to pull a lube bottle at random from the drawer. He handed it down, and Steve drizzled it over his fingers without pausing his thoroughly devastating blowjob.

Tony let his eyes fall closed as he sunk into the sensation. Steve had Tony pinned down with one hand fisted tightly in the hoodie, right over Tony’s hip. His other hand slipped between his legs to rub slick fingers around the edge of his hole. Tony felt his body open up, welcoming Steve in, and Steve slid one finger inside until the edge of his glove pressed roughly against his rim. “Fuck.” He writhed, but Steve’s hold was tight and the pressure from his mouth was intense, so Tony was forced to suck air in between his teeth and keep still. He lifted his arms and folded them over his face, the too-long sleeves of the hoodie flopping over his hands.

Steve hummed, and the vibration rippled up Tony’s spine. The finger pressed deeper then pulled back, only to be joined by another one. They both rocked in and out of Tony’s hole stretching and pressing to open him up. The wet heat around Tony’s cock was starting to build, and he gasped and rolled his hips. Steve’s mouth backed off a little, slowing down, and Tony whined even though he knew it was because Steve wanted to save Tony’s orgasm, wanted to make him come on his cock.

Tony tried to focus on relaxing his muscles so Steve could work him open faster. The sooner Steve was satisfied that Tony was ready, the sooner he’d be inside him. And either Steve was as eager as he was, or it worked, because only a few minutes later, Steve pulled back, licking his lips in a way that was far too obscene for a national icon, and crawled forward until he was covering Tony over again. He kept working his fingers inside him, adding a third briefly, then pulled away and worked his fly open, propping himself up on one elbow.

Tony spread his legs wide, and once Steve had slicked his cock, he hooked his arm under Tony’s knee and hauled his leg up with him as he leaned forward to cover him.

Tony loved this moment. Steve was like a weighted blanket over him, huge and warm and heavy. He managed to wrap himself around Tony, gathering him together, until Tony felt like there wasn’t an inch of him that didn’t belong completely to Steve. The first press of Steve’s cock against his hole felt like coming home, even though he’d been the one waiting here for Steve to return.

“Oh, fuck yeah, you feel incredible,” Tony whined, preening with a self-satisfied smile when that made Steve’s breath shudder out. He rolled his hips, begging for more, and Steve pressed in another inch.

This was their favourite game, Steve taking his time, Tony begging for more, faster. Tony was pretty sure they had about an equal win-rate, and he was also pretty sure that he was a shoe-in tonight. He pulled out all the stops, moaning, gasping, rocking up to meet Steve’s shallow thrusts. And, sure enough, it wasn’t long before Steve’s hand clenched around Tony’s thigh and he pushed forward, sheathing himself fully inside Tony with a gasp.

They moaned together as Steve rocked back until the head of his cock caught on Tony’s rim then pushed forward again. It was on that edge of too much, making Tony feel stretched wide and fucked deep. The stiff leather of the armour rubbed against Tony’s thighs and ass and the contrast between that and the slick, easy slide of Steve’s cock was head spinning.

“Come on, baby, take me. I need to feel you. Need to keep feeling you tomorrow, know you’re here, know you’re okay. Take me, take me.”

That was enough to urge Steve into action, and he pushed Tony’s leg up higher and began fucking into him in earnest. The new angle meant Steve was pounding relentlessly against Tony’s prostate, and he instantly went from “horny and enjoying himself” to “on the absolute edge of complete destruction.” Leather rubbed a rough patch over the inside of Tony’s thighs, and an endless stream of half-formed babble spilled out of Tony’s mouth. Steve surged up to capture it with his lips, devouring Tony with eager kiss after eager kiss.

Both of Steve’s hands were occupied, one braced next to Tony’s hip to keep him from crushing him, the other gripping Tony’s folded leg hard enough to bruise, so Tony shoved his own hand down between their bodies and started jacking himself off roughly in the short, sharp strokes he could manage in the small amount of space.

Steve didn’t relent, slamming into Tony over and over, knocking Tony’s hand up and over the head of his cock with every thrust.

“God, I -” Steve choked out. “You’re  _mine,”_  he growled, chest vibrating, and Tony tipped over the edge with a startled cry. He came hard and fast and completely out of his control, spraying come over his chest and up to his chin, splattering the front of Steve’s armour with white, sullying the star over his heart.

“Oh  _fuck,”_ Tony whimpered, needing to curl up against the overwhelming wave of sensation but unable to in Steve’s iron grip.

Steve never slowed, winding Tony up into madness as his nerves went overboard with sensation. Tony took two handfuls of the front of the Captain America suit, pressed his forehead to Steve’s and hung on for dear life.

Steve had him almost folded in half, cock pounding deep in Tony’s ass with every snap of his hips, when he finally pressed forward and moaned out his release. His cock throbbed where it stretched Tony’s rim, pumping come deep inside him.

Steve collapsed on top of him with a broken-sounding groan then immediately pushed himself back up onto a shaky elbow when that pushed a startled huff out of Tony.

“Welcome home!” Tony said with a stoned-as-fuck sounding giggle and a pat to Steve’s shoulder. Peaceful, satisfied pleasure washed through Tony like a drug and he sunk into the sheets with a happy sigh.

Steve chuckled in reply then pushed up on his elbow to look down at Tony. He pulled free with a wince and a sigh, and Tony squirmed as lube and come spilled out after him. He traced the edge of Steve’s jaw with a single finger, and Steve’s eyes fluttered shut then opened again. “Nowhere else I’d rather be…”

Tony’s smile bloomed across his face. He felt pleasantly dopey, ready to slip off to sleep again. “Go get cleaned up so you can cuddle me properly.”

“Sir, yes sir.” Steve brushed another kiss across Tony’s lips then pushed up off the bed.

Tony watched him strip off the uniform and leave it in a haphazard pile on the floor before disappearing into the bathroom. The shower clicked on. Tony wiped off his chest wth his discarded boxers then shifted out of the wet spot and snuggled down into the sheets, too tired to take the hoodie off and too tired to pull his boxers back on. He knew he must look ridiculous, but he didn’t care.

He let his eyes slip shut. He was going to wait for Steve to come back to bed, so they could fall asleep together. No matter what, they’d wake up that way, wrapped around each other like a pair of love-struck octopuses, blinking awake to soft morning light and the gurgling of the automatic coffeemaker turning on. But Tony would wait for him…

He tried to stay awake….


	11. Airborne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve reached out and ran his fingers over the back of the armour’s metal finger. He could feel the ridge from each articulated plate, flexible yet melded so seamlessly together. Iron Man looked down at him in the dark of Tony’s empty workshop, expressionless.
> 
> This. This was why he and Bucky used to go to the Stark Expo. This was what saving the future was all about. Utterly incredible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve loves the armour, Steve flies, flirty, pre-slash.
> 
> For my bday prompts for lacrimula-falsa who asked for Steve flying the IM armour.
> 
> Rated: T

Steve reached out and ran his fingers over the back of the armour’s metal finger. He could feel the ridge from each articulated plate, flexible yet melded so seamlessly together. Iron Man looked down at him in the dark of Tony’s empty workshop, expressionless.

_This._  This was why he and Bucky used to go to the Stark Expo. This was what saving the future was all about. Utterly incredible.

Steve reached out again, wanting to feel the smooth glass of the arc reactor housing, but a voice behind him made him startle back, heart pounding.

“Wanna try it?”

“Oh! Tony. God, sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

“I know you didn’t.” Tony grinned. “You were too busy making googly eyes at my boyfriend, there.”

Steve flushed. “I think it’s really incredible. I can’t believe you built that. I mean, I can, because you’re really incredible, but… um.”

Tony’s smirk softened into a smile. “Thank you.” Then his eyes brightened again. “So? Wanna try it?”

“What? You - You’re not serious?”

“Why not? It’s self-powered now, doesn’t need the arc reactor -” his fingers drummed against his chest “- and it can adjust to fit pretty much anyone. Even your statistically improbable shoulders should be accomodated.”

“But… I don’t know how. Doesn’t it take special skills or - or -?”

Tony snorted. “I was exhausted, broken, beaten, starving, and terrified the first time I flew. If I could manage it then, you can manage it now.”

Steve frowned, swallowing heavily. He could never tell if Tony was dismissive because he had unique coping skills or because he was hiding his pain. “To be fair, you did crash into a desert,” Steve tried, and to his relief, Tony laughed.

“Solid point. But it has all kinds of safety measures now. I can pilot it remotely, and it can fly itself, too. I’ve seen you eyeing it up. If you want to try it, you really can. It’s perfectly safe.”

Steve had seen some of the bruises Tony sported after a particularly rough battle so he thought “perfectly safe” was a bit of an exaggeration, but honestly, that was never going to stop him. He’d had a subway car thrown at him just the other day; no part of Steve’s life was “perfectly safe.” What he really needed to know what that it was perfectly okay for Steve to play with Tony’s toy. “You sure?”

“Super sure. It’ll be good data, actually. See how it handles different proportions.”

Steve looked back at the silent, imposing armour where it stood against the wall. “Okay…”

“Awesome!” Tony clapped his hands together. “Take off your sweater.”

Steve’s heart skipped into overdrive. “What?  _Now?”_

“Do you have somewhere to be?”

“No… I - okay.” Steve grabbed the hem of his sweatshirt and pulled it off so he was just in his t-shirt and jeans. Tony came over and checked a few things on the armour then pushed a button on his watch and the front of it folded back, making space for Steve.

Steve hesitated, and he saw the moment Tony noticed. “You don’t have to,” he said softly.

“Oh no, I want to. It’s just, like, you know that moment when you’re about to jump out of a plane and you wish…”

“That someone would just push you?”

“Yeah.”

Tony grinned, shark-like, then flicked his wrist and the armour  _collided_ with Steve. Steve yelped and flinched back, but it opened him up and formed around him, swallowing him down, even as he involuntarily jumped out of the way.

“Wow.” Steve straightened up, feeling the joints and gears of the armour whirr and lock around him. His vision was a huge screen - though it only looked like two tiny slits from the outside - that wrapped almost all the way around his peripheral vision. Overlaid over his view of the workshop was a staggering amount of information: charts, labels, settings, vitals. He flicked his eyes over the screen, trying to take it all in. “Do you see this much information all the time?”

“Oh, right. J, throw the HUD on my screen instead. Let Cap enjoy the view.” The overlay disappeared instantly, and Steve watched as Tony made his way back over to his computer. “Okay, I’m going to make sure everything goes alright from here. All you’ll have to do is point and bank, Steve. The autopilot will handle all the subtle things. Your comm is being fed into this room so I’ll be able to hear you. This suit is only rated to about twenty thousand feet so if you see planes, or like, planets, you’ve gone too high. Ready?”

“No. But let’s do it!”

Tony chuckled. “Adrenaline junkie. Knew there was a reason I liked you, Cap.”

Steve tried not to read to much into that, and he wasn’t given much opportunity to, because on the next breath, the repulsors burst to life and he shot out of the workshop. Tony politely didn’t mention Steve’s screech of surprise, or if he was laughing, his mic was turned off. The suit rocketed out of the hanger bay, and then Steve felt the moment that control was turned over to him. The joints relaxed, and gave, the repulsors firing just enough to keep him aloft, but without any real purpose.

He tried shifting his arms and banking to the left, and the suit turned, more sharply than he intended. His breath caught.

“You’re doing great. Try going up a little higher so you don’t have to worry about buildings.” Tony’s voice was crisp and clear through the helmet speakers.

A tiny compass appeared in the corner of the screen, and Steve pointed east, headed for the water. Once he was free of skyscrapers, Steve took a chance to look around and really take in his surroundings. The sky was clear and bright blue, though off in the distance, Steve could see the dark roll of a threatening storm. The water was rough today, dark and white-tipped, but, encased in the gold-titanium alloy, Steve couldn’t tell if it was windy or not. The armour seemed resistant to being pushed off-track, the repulsors firing alternately to keep him steady.

As he relaxed into the armour, Steve tried more active steering, tilting his body and twisting his arms to rise higher, sink lower, then shoot off at twice the speed. He did an aileron roll, then another when that made his stomach swoop pleasantly. He gave out a little whoop of joy, and Tony chuckled. “Looks like you’ve got the hang of it.”

“This is amazing, Tony! Wow! Did you see that bird?”

“Pretty sure all the gulls around here are used to seeing Iron Man.”

“I’ll try my best not to sully your reputation.” Steve grinned and swooped low again then shot straight up. He could feel the g-forces of the movement, but not as much as he expected; it was softened somehow by the structure of the suit.

It was pure, utter freedom, bright, exhilarating, and terrifying in the best possible way. Steve could see why Tony loved it, why the suit was part of him. He could feel the armour thrumming with the life Tony had given it, and as responsive and comfortable as it was, there was no doubt that Steve was a guest here. No one could fly Iron Man like Tony could.

“You should probably head back, Cap,” Tony said. “I’ve learned the hard way that when you’re first getting used to it, it feels great while you’re in it, but there’s a bit of a hangover if you go too long.”

“Alright.” Steve banked back towards the tower.

“I’ll bring you in for a landing.”

Steve relaxed as he felt the joints of the armour lock to Tony’s control. He blasted through the landing bay and came to a stop in the workshop, landing lightly on his feet. Tony walked over, grinning from ear-to-ear. He pushed a button and the armour sprung open.

“That was incr- _oof.”_  Steve tumbled out of the armour as he stepped forward and his legs went to jelly. Tony caught him, bracing both hands on his chest to keep him from stumbling right to the floor. “Incredible,” Steve finished.

Tony was warm and close and smiling like Steve had just made his day instead of the other way around. “I could make you one,” Tony said, eyes twinkling. “All red, white and blue. Put some glitter on it. Little wings on the helmet.”

Steve righted himself but didn’t shift away from Tony’s touch. “Nah. It’s amazing, but I think I’d better leave the flying to you.”

“Right.” Tony’s eyes flickered over Steve’s face, alighting on his lips. “Cause… uh… if you need a ride….” he trailed off.

“You’ll give me a lift?” Steve finished, breathlessly.

Tony grinned, leaning in. “Exactly.”


	12. Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve hasn’t had a lot of epic realizations in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Falling in love.
> 
> For my bday prompts for beautifulmonster who wanted Steve realizing he was in love with Tony.
> 
> Rated: T

Steve hasn’t had a lot of epic realizations in his life. **  
**

There’ve been a few, of course - like realizing that he’d woken up in a new century - and many small ones - the realization that his muscle memory for where most light switches would be was suddenly several inches off - but nothing quite like this one.

Tony, for his part, is completely covered in mud. He’s wearing the undersuit with a pair of sweatpants over top, that are also covered in mud. He has what seems like half an oak tree in his hair - which is sticking up completely wildly - and he’s clutching a dirty puppy to him like if he lets her go, she’ll cease to exist.

The argument about where the lost puppy is going to end up is not the most important thing on Steve’s mind - though perhaps it should be, since his apartment was offered up as one of the options - because staring at Tony, dirty, tired, angry, and holding a tiny, startled beagle in his arms (that may or may not be the victim of a magic spell) has made Steve realize that he’s in love with him.

Once the thought hits, Steve can’t find the thread of it again, can’t find the end so he can follow it, inch by inch, back to where the idea starts. It’s like, one minute, Tony Stark is his best friend and teammate, and the next minute, the entire concept of loving him has beamed, fully formed, into Steve’s head, and he’s left blinking and stunned.

The argument continues around him, but Steve’s not listening to the words now, he’s just staring at Tony.

Tony’s cheeks are pink from frustration and exertion and his eyes are bright and narrowed. The arm holding the puppy cradles it softly against his chest even as the other gestures wildly to support his words.

Tony’s not the kind of person Steve expected to fall in love with, back in time, when he was small and hopeful and waiting. In fact, Tony’s pretty much the opposite. But when Steve looks at the history of people he  _has_ fallen for, in one way or another, there does seem to be a trend: brown-haired, gorgeous, sassy, smart.

There’s also a tendency, amongst those Steve is fondest of, to throw themselves whole hog into things without reservation or even, really, a modicum of self-preservation.

A glob of mud flies off Tony’s arm as he gestures and marrs the once-pristine kitchen floor. The puppy whimpers.

“But what if the aliens come to get her, Clint? What then?!” Tony shouts, gesturing towards the hole in the wall that still has half a broken spaceship stuck through it.

Steve has strong suspicions the puppy won’t be leaving the tower. Tony’s probably already mentally making a pet store shopping list for JARVIS. But the others continue to argue because they don’t know Tony like Steve does. They don’t see the slight twist to his lips and the way he curls his fingers - not into a fist, more like he’s holding some imaginary tool - that say he won’t be backing down for anything.

Steve takes two steps towards Tony, because now that he’s filled up with this revelation from head to foot, he wants to bask in it. This love is warm and soft and washes over him in waves, like a calm evening ocean lapping at the shore. It’s steadying and right and powerful and,  _god,_  everything Steve never knew he needed.

He takes another step, and he’s right at Tony’s side now, almost touching him. The puppy looks up and wags her tail, squirming in Tony’s hold, but he doesn’t let her go. He turns and looks at Steve now, with those melted chocolate eyes, and they flicker a bit - just a bit - and how has Steve not noticed that before? Not noticed the way heat creeps in at the corners of Tony’s expression whenever Steve is near?

Steve’s perfect, serum-enhanced memory lets him scroll through those moments and catalogue them. How had he not noticed before?

Now that he has, he can never let it go.

Tony wafts the puppy in Steve’s direction, making her floppy ears bounce. “What do you think?” Tony asks, sighing, eyes still fixed on Steve. “What should we do?”

Steve leans in and cups Tony’s cheek with his hand, startling a gasp out of him. Tony’s eyes go wide, and he swallows heavily. Steve strokes his thumb across Tony’s cheek, smearing mud everywhere, and then he kisses him.

Tony’s lips are cool, but Steve warms them quickly with his own. Tony blooms against him, the puppy pressed tightly between their chests. Steve traces the edge of Tony’s lips with his tongue, cataloging that too and the soft noise of surprise it startles out of Tony’s throat. A throat Steve wants to kiss, taste, nip as well, but that would involve moving away from Tony’s mouth, and - well -

Steve brushes the hand from Tony’s jaw back into his hair, dislodging leaves and sticks which flutter to the ground. The other hand lands on Tony’s hip, drawing him forward, slotting their bodies together. Tony is strong, and steady, and wonderful in Steve’s arms, and what a waste it was not to realize this earlier, but also, what a blessing to have it now.

It’s a long time before Steve pulls back, licking Tony’s taste - coffee and peanut butter and quite a bit of mud - off his lips with a happy sigh. Tony is blinking at him like he’s been struck across the face and he can’t remember which way gravity is supposed to go. He’s got the puppy up in front of his heart like a shield. She flops her mouth open and grins at Steve, tongue lolling out. Steve bends forward again until his forehead kisses Tony’s, and Tony’s eyes flutter shut for a moment.

“I don’t care what we do,” Steve whispers, under the jeers and catcalls of their whooping teammates, “as long as we do it together.”

And for the first time in a long time, Tony smiles and it reaches all the way up to his eyes.


	13. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Captain Rogers,” Greg replied, as if Steve’s appearance at his own table was a surprise. “How are you enjoying yourself?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ultimates, Secrets, Greg, fluff.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> This is for my bday prompts for anon who wanted: UltsSteve interaction with Greg.

Steve struggled his way through the pushed back chairs to the Ultimates’ table, in need of a break from all the people, but when he got there, Tony’s seat next to his was occupied, and not by Tony. **  
**

Though, if you didn’t look too closely, in the dark shadows you might think it was him. “Dr. Stark,” Steve said, settled into his own chair.

“Captain Rogers,” Greg replied, as if Steve’s appearance at his own table was a surprise. “How are you enjoying yourself?”

Steve half shrugged and knocked back a large gulp of his drink. “It’s fine.”

Greg laughed lightly while Steve scanned the crowd for a particular head of dark hair, and he let out a soft, involuntary sigh when he found it.

Greg laughed again. “I must admit, it is gratifying to know that I was right about you, Captain.”

“Right about what?” Steve couldn’t reign back the way the confusion twisted his expression. Jan always said it made him look like he was about to kill someone, but honestly, with Greg? It wasn’t that far off.

Greg smiled at him, condescendingly, indulgently. “Well, though I am one, it doesn’t actually take a genius to decipher the way you look at my brother.”

Steve’s breath evaporated out of his lungs. “What.”

“Oh, come now, between friends. You two are…?” Greg raised an eyebrow, and Steve scowled down at his drink.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Greg laughed. “Sure you don’t. It’s been a pleasure to watch, really. How clueless my brother was in the beginning. For a self-proclaimed playboy, he really doesn’t have that much game, does he? Anyway, it’s quite nice to have it confirmed.”

“Confirmed?” Steve shifted in his chair. What was Greg talking about? Was someone talking about them behind their backs?

Greg hummed and looked across the room to where his brother was telling a story with broad, sweeping gestures, his listeners rapt. “Yes. It was just a suspicion before. They way you’d always seem to know where he was, the way you stared at the back of his head when he wasn’t watching -” Steve snapped his eyes back to his drink “- and then when he got a clue, the way he’d smile at you like you were a secret. I’ve seen him like that before. I can read him like a book.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Steve growled. He forced his fingers to relax where they were gripping his cup, sure it was going to pop in a spray of ice and glass any minute.

“I suppose. But now I know for sure.”

“How?”

“You really want to know?” Greg leaned over to whisper in Steve’s ear. “Tonight… you swapped ties after the keynote.”

The back of Steve’s neck prickled with heat, and he resisted the urge to look down and check. He couldn’t resist for long, however; when he reached for his glass, his eyes flicked down without his permission. He was wearing red silk. Tony’s back was to him, halfway across the banquet hall, but Steve had no doubt he’d be in blue. Hopefully, people would take the mismatch with his pocket square as a fashion statement instead of reading into it what Greg had.

Steve rounded on Greg, mouth opening, a threat and a plea both trying to squirm out of his throat at the same time. But Greg cut him off.

“Don’t worry. It’s of no consequence to me who my brother is sleeping with, and it’d take up far too much of my time trying to keep track anyway. If you’re pleasing him for now, all the better. SI stock goes up when he’s in a good mood, and I’d like my company in good shape when I get it back. I’ll keep your sordid little secret, Captain.” Greg laughed again, not kindly.

But Steve grit his teeth and balled his fists in his lap and forced himself not to break a table with Greg’s face. He didn’t know how to play this; Tony would. 

“Thank you,” he managed to get out, figuring he might as well placate him for now. Steve stood to go, needing to tell Tony. Even if he was being nice about it now, Greg having that information was a weapon he could unsheathe at any moment. He had no proof, but it seemed the popular media didn’t need that, nowadays. “Excuse me.”

“Hmm,” Greg hummed. “Run off and warn your sweetheart.” He shook the ice cubes in his glass and his voice dropped low, almost contemplative. “We may loathe each other… but he’s still my brother, Captain.”

Steve didn’t bother saying goodbye. He pushed away from the table and crossed the room to where Tony was still deep in his story. Steve interrupted, perhaps in the way that only Captain America could, and they all fell silent. “Tony, can I borrow you for a moment? Ultimates’ business.” Tony nodded, and let himself be whisked away. As soon as they were out of earshot, Steve bent to his ear and hissed, “You’re wearing my tie.”

Tony dropped his chin to his chest painfully obviously and ran his hand over the blue silk. Then he laughed. “Well, well, I guess I am.” He twisted close then dropped his hand in Steve’s back pocket and _pinched._  “I saw a coat closet on the way in…” He turned his devastating smirk up towards Steve. “Wanna trade back?”

Steve rolled his eyes, but he let himself be led away, down the hall. He’d warn Tony about Greg later.


	14. The Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha stretched out on the couch, rolling her ankles. She was getting to the good part in her book, only a few chapters from the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, family, outsider POV, surprises.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> For my bday prompts for anon who wanted extra extra fluff.

Natasha stretched out on the couch, rolling her ankles. She was getting to the good part in her book, only a few chapters from the end. **  
**

It was nice to have a lazy Sunday at home, the team spread around the tower but still together. Nat knew Clint was on the roof, Bruce was in the gym, Thor was in his room, and Steve and Tony were behind her, bickering good naturedly over a chess set.

“Stop cheating, Rogers,” Tony said, the words accompanied by the thump of pieces being moved more violently than they should be.

“I’m not cheating. These are house rules.”

“We don’t have house rules for chess.”

Nat could hear the rustle of fabric as Steve shrugged. She could imagine the cheeky smirk he’d be shooting Tony. “Just because you don’t know them, doesn’t mean we don’t have them.”

“If only you know them, then they’re not house rules, they're… Steve rules.”

“Wow, I get my own rules, amazing!” There was a thud and then Steve started laughing.

“I want a divorce!” Tony proclaimed followed by a rustle of fabric that sounded an awful lot like him being gathered up in super soldier arms.

“Well, technically you never married me so…”

Nat rolled her eyes at the years-old argument.

“I’ll marry you,” Tony replied tartly. “I’ll marry you the very second you agree that the perfect song for our first dance is Star Spangled Man with A Plan.”

“Okay, now I want a divorce too.” Nat heard the smack of a kiss.

“But technically you never married me…” Tony trailed off, and Nat turned back to her book, trying to block out the noises coming from the other side of the room.

They stopped when Tony’s phone started blasting its obnoxious, eighties rock ringtone, startling all of them. “Hello?”

Natasha leaned her head towards the back of the couch. Something sounded off.

“Yes - I - wait, what? She  _what?”_  Tony’s voice went rough and breathless, stretched thin.

“Hun? What’s wrong?” Steve sounded thirty seconds from panicking.

Natasha tossed her book aside and stood, rounding the couch to join them. All the blood had drained out of Tony’s face and he was clutching the edge of the table to stay upright. Steve had a hand rested on his arm, terror written all over his face.

“Tony!”

Tony held up a shaky finger. “Yeah, okay. Half an hour, forty if the roads are bad. Yup. Okay.” He hung up. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Steve all but whined.

Tony turned bright, shaky eyes on Steve. “Sophie went into labour two weeks early. She’s on her way to the hospital.”

“Wait,  _what?”_  Now, all the blood drained out of Steve’s face, even as Tony’s cheeks were brightening. Natasha stepped forward on instinct and slipped her hand in Steve’s. She squeezed, and he clutched her hand back like a lifeline, shooting her a terrified look. “What do we -?”

Tony looked around manically. “We need the, uh, the thing.  _Where is the thing, Steve?”_

Steve looked about thirty seconds from needing a paper bag.

“Hey!” Nat snapped, and they both froze, staring at her. “Hey, guys. Take a breath.” They both breathed in and then out in comic synchronicity. “You’re going to be great. The baby’s going to be great. Sophie’s going to be the greatest of all. You’ve got your go bag?”

“Yes.”

“And the room’s ready?”

“Yes.”

“Remember who gets sent the first pictures?”

“Aunt Nat.”

“Good boys. Okay. Get to the hospital, give that saint of a girl a super-powered hand to hold on to.” Nat clapped them both on the shoulder. “You’re about to be parents!”

“Oh my god,” Tony repeated for the nth time.

They shuffled towards the door, and Nat heard Steve whisper, “Holy shit,” under his breath.

Evidently, Tony heard it too. “Language!” he trilled. “Going to have tiny ears here soon.”

Steve grinned at him then wrapped an arm around his waist, drawing him in close. “That was my last one.”

“Ten bucks says it wasn’t.”

Steve tugged, and Tony ended up flush against his chest. They kissed, both smiling enough that it was more tooth than lip, and Natasha couldn’t help smiling too. Their love seemed to expand to fill whatever space they were put in, and it was exceedingly nice to float in it alongside them, warm and happy. They’d taken this team and turned it into a family. A family that was about to get a tiny bit bigger.

The two men shared a look full of apprehension, joy, terror, and unfathomably deep love then scooted out the door, on the way to bring even more happiness into this home they all shared.

Nat threw some messages in their Avengers group chat then spread out on the couch again, her phone resting on her stomach where she’d feel it buzz right away. She picked up her book. Once she’d finished it, she’d go check the nursery with Clint, send those dumb boys a picture to remind them that everything was ready, everything was perfect. They were going to be wonderful parents.

And Nat couldn’t wait to be an aunt.


	15. Stress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony watched Steve ratchet tighter. It was like every one of his gears was rusting before Tony’s eyes, clenching and catching and creaking. Creases that Steve’s perfect face usually didn’t display appeared at the corner of his eyes. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, then released, then clenched again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, love.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> For my bday prompts for arukou who said "Steve gets very, very stressed out by SHIELD bullshit and Tony decides that he's going to do something to ease that stress. Take that however you'd like."

“I don’t know how many more times I can say that it  _won’t work -”_  Steve’s jaw snapped closed as Hill cut him off yet again. **  
**

“But, Cap, we haven’t considered all the angles.”

Tony watched Steve ratchet tighter. It was like every one of his gears was rusting before Tony’s eyes, clenching and catching and creaking. Creases that Steve’s perfect face usually didn’t display appeared at the corner of his eyes. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, then released, then clenched again.

Every time Steve spoke, Hill or Fury or Rumblow would interrupt, and Tony had given up on trying to interject on his behalf, besides, this meeting had gone on way past Tony’s expertise and solidly into military strategy. He wished, not for the first time, that Rhodey were here.

But more, he wished that there was something he could do for Steve.

He didn’t know Steve that well, not yet. They’d been working together for a while, but Steve was hard to get close to. He was closed off and quiet - always polite, but Tony could see more and more the toll that playing everything close to his chest was taking on him. And he didn’t seem to have someone, like Tony’s Pepper and Rhodey, to vent to, to be himself with, to leach some comfort from.

Instead, Steve wound tighter and tighter, and Tony was an engineer; he knew what came next.

Captain America breaking wouldn’t be pretty, might not be something he could come back from. But what could Tony do? He didn’t have anything to give. He didn’t have the answers, and he didn’t have the right words of comfort. He could hardly relate to being frozen for seventy years and waking up in a new world where everything was different and everyone was gone.

Steve slapped a palm flat on the table to punctuate his words, legs tensing like he was going to stand, but he sunk back down, his other hand clenching and releasing again by his side. Hill, Fury, and Rumlow were getting more and more visibly frustrated, and none of them seemed to notice that Steve’s rope was stretched extremely thin.

Tony shifted in his chair beside Steve, itching to -  _something_. Fix it. Tony was a fixer, the mechanic. He wanted to fix Steve, but this wasn’t his strong suit - hurting, angry, lonely people. He was good at being one of them, and if he knew how to fix it, he’d probably have started with himself. As it was, he cycled through everything Jarvis had ever said to him when he was angry. None of it seemed to apply. Steve had the right to be angry; he should be furious.

Tony’s eyes flicked around the room again, the tension a heavy weight in the air. He sighed heavily, but no one seemed to notice. Steve’s legs had tensed up again - whether to fling himself across the table and punch Rumlow or to turn tail and flee for Mexico, Tony wasn’t sure.

Pepper would hug him. Pepper would just take Steve by the shoulder and tug him in and hug him. But Tony couldn’t do that in the middle of a meeting, and he wasn’t sure Steve was going to make it til the end. He also wasn’t sure he’d make it through that unpunched, considering how wound up Steve was right now.

Yet still… Tony’s fingers itched…

Eyes fixed under the table, between them, Tony slid his hand out across his thigh and wrapped his fingers around Steve’s fist. Steve startled, his hand opening out of sheer surprise, and Tony took the chance to thread their fingers together. He squeezed, heart at a standstill in his chest.

Steve turned and stared at him, wide-eyed, the others so distracted by their yelling that they didn’t seem to notice the two Avengers suddenly blinking at one another.

Tony squeezed again, trying to pour into it everything that he could. His cheeks heated under Steve’s startled gaze. Then Steve’s eyes softened, his shoulders drooped, and he let out a shaky exhale.

He squeezed back.

Tony stayed silent for the rest of the meeting. He was offering all he could. And Steve’s hand stayed locked in his the entire time, held onto him almost desperately, a lifeline. It wasn’t much, but Tony watched with deep relief as the rust on Steve’s gears softened and slipped away - not entirely, but a little bit. It was better than nothing; it was all Tony had to give.


	16. Jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s not fair,” Tony sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jealous!Tony, Steve/other, happy ending, miscommunications, pining.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> This is for my bday prompts for vaticancameos186 who wanted: "Tony being really jealous of someone who he thinks Steve really likes, but of course, at the end , he's set straight by Steve. Would be awesome if Sassy!Clint and Exasperated!Bruce is featured, but final decision is upto you, of course."

“It’s not fair,” Tony sighed. **  
**

“Not fair…” Bruce echoed, fiddling with a collection of test tubes.

“I finally got up the courage, you know?” Tony rested his chin in his hand. He poked the wireframe in front of him idly with the point of his pen and watched a large indent appear in the wing of the prototype quinjet remodel. “Finally… and now he’s dating that guy from the grocery store.”

Bruce hummed in sympathy, eyes cutting over to his carefully handwritten formulas.

“I don’t know what to do. If I tell him now it’ll look like I’m jealous of whats-his-face, which I am, but I don’t want it to look that way. What do you think?”

Bruce froze and blinked at Tony over the rims of his safety glasses.

Tony threw his pen aside. “You weren’t listening, were you?”

“I was… for a while. Then I started calibrating the centrifuge and I kind of… checked out. Sorry, Tony.”

Tony waved a hand. “Eh. Whatever. It’s hopeless anyway.”

“This is about Steve?”

“Yeah, and his new boyfriend.”

Bruce’s mouth twisted up as he slotted the last test tube in the machine. “Boyfriend? Really? Is it that far along already?”

“It’s Steve, Bruce. He’s probably picking out wedding rings. Have you ever seen him date someone?”

“No.”

“So if he’s doing it now and this blatantly, it must be serious.”

Bruce nodded sadly. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m sorry, Tony. I know you really like him.”

“Really like him… yeah.” Tony folded his arms over the table and dropped his forehead down on top of them. Talk about understatement of the year.

“Maybe it won’t work out between him and… what’s-his-face,” Bruce offered, marking something down in his notebook.

But Tony zoned out after that, visions of Steve’s boyfriend falling off a bridge and Steve turning to Tony for comfort wandering through his mind. It wasn’t fair, he knew that, but he couldn’t help himself.

**

Tony hadn’t seen a single second of the movie. They were watching War Games, but Tony had checked out before Matthew Broderick had even changed his grade. Because that was around the time that Steve’s  _boyfriend_ had slipped a hand around Steve’s waist and hooked his thumb in his belt loop. They were  _cuddling_ , and as much as Tony didn’t want to watch, he couldn’t look away.

By the time Matthew Broderick was busting out of NORAD, Tony was seething. The two of them were watching the movie, but also leaning over to whisper in each other’s ears, intertwined on the loveseat they were sharing.  _Likeseat_ , Tony prayed desperately,  _don’t let it be love._  But how could it be anything else? Tony had never seen Steve like this with anyone.

And why couldn’t it have been  _him_? If Steve was into guys and into PDA, why hadn’t he chosen Tony? Tony was right there all along, waiting, hoping, but instead Steve had offered his heart to some rando he met at the grocery store, and the guy seemed inclined to take it.

Tony had been jealous before, but not like this, never like this. It wasn’t bragging to say that if he set his sights on someone, they were usually into it. Sometimes for the wrong reasons, but…

But with Steve, Tony couldn’t bring himself to share his feelings until it was too late to, and this, apparently, was his punishment.

As Steve and Sir Gropes-A-Lot snuggled up together, Tony hit his limit. He stood up and made for the kitchen, as if he was getting more popcorn, then slipped out the door to the back stairs and trotted up to the landing pad.  

He knew he shouldn’t be mad at the guy who’d done what he couldn’t, and he knew he shouldn’t be mad at Steve for not seeing what had been right in front of him all along, but he couldn’t help it. Those feelings welled up anyway, and he was afraid of how they might come out. He’d never left movie night before - he wondered if Steve would even notice he was gone, even care - but he couldn’t sit there and pretend he was okay when he really wasn’t.

In the end, Tony put on the suit and flew around the city at bone-shaking speeds until the vertigo made him feel on more solid ground.

**

When the numbers on his tablet screen started blurring together, Tony pushed up off the couch and wandered into the penthouse kitchen. It was late - or early depending on how you looked at it - but sleep eluded him, and now he was hungry.

The penthouse freezer didn’t have anything good in it, so Tony trotted down the few flights of stairs to the shared floor. Bruce and Thor had done the shopping this week so it was sure to be sugar heaven. It wasn’t surprising to find Clint perched on one of the kitchen stools, flipping through a book. His insomnia was even worse than Tony’s.

“Hey, man.” Tony walked over to the freezer and dug through the cartons until he found a tub of rocky road.

“Morning.”

“Is it?”

“Like six, I guess.”

Tony huffed and pulled up a seat. He stuck a spoon in the ice cream and frowned when it wouldn’t break through the frozen-solid surface. “Ugh.”

“I hear ya.”

They fell into companionable silence, Tony eating his way through the pint and Clint flipping along through his book. Tony was tired, but he knew sleep wouldn’t come. He could just tell. There was no point in working, though; the competent part of his brain had checked out about six hours of sleep deficit ago.

He was just sinking into a nice sort of ice cream haze when a soft thump drew his attention away from his rocky road and through the open kitchen door. From his line of sight, he could catch the stairs doors as they swooshed open.

Steve appeared, framed through the doorway, and after him came his stupid boyfriend with his stupid hair. Tony frowned and shoved another spoonful in his mouth.

The two men stood close together in the hallway, talking too low for Tony to hear. But he could see Steve smiling. They were close to the elevator, and Mr. Apparently Spending the Night Now appeared to be on his way out while Steve was going to turn towards the kitchen.

But first they had to say goodbye.

Tony didn’t want to watch, he didn’t want that image seared in his brain, but he couldn’t look away as Steve drew the man into a hug and pressed their lips together. A monster even larger and greener than the Hulk reared up in Tony’s chest. It wanted to charge out that door and rip the guy off Steve, punch him right back into the elevator to be dragged down and dispensed into the lobby, never to return.

The ice cream carton squeaked under Tony’s too-tight hold and he dropped it with a low rumble that definitely wasn’t a growl.

Clint shifted forward into his seat to follow Tony’s sightline. He sat back down. “That’s new.”

“They’ve been dating for weeks now.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean Steve’s boyfriend. I meant the death-lasers in your eyes at the sight of them together. Or maybe I just haven’t been paying attention?”

Tony ground his teeth together. “I’m handling it.”

“But you wish you were handling Steve, yeah?”

Suddenly the ice cream tasted like ash in his mouth. Tony shoved the lid on and turned to put it away. Steve would be done making out obscenely in the hallway any minute now and he’d come in and join them. Tony was too tired to cover how he felt; he needed to leave.

He shot Clint a withering look then chucked the spoon towards the sink. It ricocheted off the faucet handle with a power that would have impressed Tony if he hadn’t been so pissed off. With a loud “ping” both the spoon and the now broken faucet handle flew into the air, skittering across the counter. Tony glared at it, absolutely done. He turned on his heel and marched away towards the back stairs before Steve could catch him, hearing Clint muttering, “Handling it really well, I see,” behind him.

Back in the penthouse, Tony threw himself face down on his couch and groaned. The ice cream was churning in his stomach. He couldn’t take it. The next time he saw them making googly eyes at each other, or feeling each other up, he was going to blow a gasket. And possibly punch Mr. Handsy in the face.

This was not working out.

**

Tony watched on the monitor as the elevator descended towards the lab, Steve leaning against the back wall of it, twisting his fingers nervously together. It was too late to hide, and Tony didn’t really want to anyway. He knew he’d been avoiding Steve lately, unable to see him without thinking about grocery-store-guy glued to his face, and of course Steve would notice.

He could lie, and maybe that was the kindest thing to do, but in the long run, it would probably only confuse things more. He could say he was busy or tired or not feeling well and that he needed some space to recharge, but that only worked if Steve and what’s-his-face didn’t work out. If their relationship solidified into something permanent, Tony would have to face his issues, and to be honest, he couldn’t see himself getting over this easily.

So his only option was to tell Steve honestly that he had a problem with his boyfriend - a problem that was entirely his own - and that he might need some time to get over it. Steve was a good guy - the best - he’d understand. Maybe Tony would have his shit figured out in time to be their best man, in time to be honestly happy for Steve that he’d found someone he loved and who loved him back.

Tony watched like a man on his way to the guillotine as Steve stepped out of the elevator and approached the workshop door. He knocked, so Tony knocked back the rest of his beer before calling out, “Come in.”

“Hey Tony.” Steve hovered awkwardly in the doorway. “Is this a bad time?”

“It’s never a bad time for you, Capsicle. Come on in. Take a seat.”

Steve smiled shakily and crossed the lab to settle on a stool next to Tony, ankles hooked on the bar so his legs folded up like a little kid’s. “So, um,” Steve started awkwardly. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a little while. Everything okay?”

Tony snorted. It was adorable, really, the way Steve managed to make “are you avoiding me?” about worrying for Tony instead. “I’ve been avoiding you,” Tony said bluntly, because if he was going to go for this, he wasn’t going to waste time and nervous energy pussyfooting around.

“Oh.” Steve’s entire being collapsed down into itself, making him look more like the half-Steve he was before the serum than Captain America.

Tony’s heart thudded painfully in his chest.  _Rip the bandaid off,_  he told himself. “It’s nothing you did. It’s me. I’m going through something.”

Steve didn’t look any happier. “Are you okay? Is there anything I can do? Why - why do you not want to be around me…? If there’s something I’m doing that bothers you, I can stop.”

Tony shifted on his stool to smile at Steve as softly as he could manage without bursting into tears. “It’s not something you can stop - and it’s not something you  _should_  stop. It’s my fault. I’m - I’m having difficulty adjusting.”

“To what?”

Tony bit his lip then opened his mouth to speak, but Steve cut him off. “Mark.”

“What?”

“It’s Mark, isn’t it? You started disappearing right around when he started hanging out here.”

Right. That was his name. Tony nodded slowly. “Yes… it’s Mark.”

Steve’s brow crinkled. “You don’t like him.”

Tony shook his head. “No, I don’t. But don’t think it’s anything wrong with him,” he hastened to add. “I’m sure he’s a great guy. I mean, if he earned your affection, he has to be. But I can’t be around you two together right now.” He tipped his chin up and met Steve’s eyes. “I’d just managed to work up the courage to tell you how I feel about you when you started dating him. I don’t handle jealousy well, Steve, and I really, really don’t want to ruin our friendship because I can’t fake it around him. I think it’s best if I back off a bit until I have some time to process this. Some time to get over you. It’s not your fault or his. I just -”

Tony cut off with a muffled gasp as Steve hauled forward and pressed his lips to Tony, arms gripping his biceps almost hard enough to bruise. He was warm and soft, and  _fuck_ Tony’d had this fantasy one too many times not to just melt into the touch and open to the kiss, letting it sink deeper. But when Steve’s tongue darted out, Tony was reminded of seeing Mark do the same, and he jerked back with a yelp, shoving hard at Steve’s chest.

Steve jolted back, putting a foot between them. His eyes were wide and his chest heaved. “Tony -?”

“What the fuck, dude?! I’m not letting you cheat on your boyfriend with me. Holy shit. I can’t believe you’d do that.” Tony’s peddled back on his stool until there was a solid few feet between them. God, it was everything he’d ever wanted and in the worst way possible.

Steve’s mouth dropped open, and he slapped his hand over it. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think about how that would look. I just - I was so excited to hear that you feel that way too. I couldn’t help myself. I… I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”

Tony dropped his face in his hands and scrubbed hard. “Fuck, Steve. You can’t - you won’t - I asked you to leave me alone so I could get over you and instead you kiss me and tell me you like me? You can’t do that. You have a boyfriend. I won’t be a homewrecker, okay? Just let me go.”

“No!” Steve reached towards him then stilled himself when Tony flinched back. “Shit, I’m doing this all wrong. Mark’s not my boyfriend.”

Tony shot him a unamused look. “You cuddle on the couch and makeout in the hallway at six in the morning. You’re telling me he’s just your bff?”

“No, no. We’re um, I mean. We are sleeping together. But it’s not exclusive. He just comes over sometimes. You know…”

“Are you telling me he’s a  _booty call?”_

Steve’s cheeks pinked and his eyes flicked away.  _“I’m_  more like the ‘booty’ call if you want to get techni-”

“Steven.”

Steve worked and failed to suppress a smile. “I guess it’s the other thing. What do you call it? Friends who…”

“…Friends with benefits?”

“Yeah.”

Tony blinked at him. This conversation had taken a wild turn. “So you’re not dating?”

“Not at all. He has a serious long-term girlfriend, but they’re in an open relationship and they both see a lot of other people on the side. He’s been around more this week because his girlfriend is away.”

“Why -” Tony started, then stopped, realizing he didn’t know where that question was going. “…why?”

Steve twisted his hands together, looking like the nervous kid in the elevator all over again. “I… struggle a bit, sometimes, in the future,” he admitted quietly. “Growing up I had Bucky, and then in the army, the Commandos. We were all really close, touchy. We’d collapse in a big pile at the end of the day and take comfort in one another. You could hug and kiss your friends more easily back then, or maybe I just found it easier to be close friends with people. But I don’t really get touched since I was thawed.”

He took a deep breath then went on. “I met Mark and at first, I thought it was just friendly. But he’s a touchy person. Very open with his affection, and it wasn’t long before I realized how badly I needed that. I know the team would have been there for me if I’d asked, but… it’s hard to ask for something like that. I was also sure that if you touched me at all, I wouldn’t be able to hide how I feel about you. Mark told me about his arrangement, and I kissed him. Things kind of progressed from there.

"I like him well enough, but there’s no feelings there, for either of us. He’s a friend and he helps me feel less…”

“Touch-starved,” Tony finished.

“Yeah. That’s all it is.”

Tony’s fingers twitched towards Steve, immediately desperate to fix it. But now he had no idea where they stood. Was Tony willing to share him with other people?

“I’m sorry you don’t like Mark,” Steve said. “I’m sorry I was putting you through that.”

“It’s not your fault, Steve. You have the right to date, or booty call, anyone you want. And I don’t really dislike him. He just… he makes me seethingly jealous.”

“I’ll cut him loose,” Steve said immediately.

“No, no, no. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask. I offered.” Steve shifted a tiny bit closer. “I like Mark well enough, but I’d rather have you. In any way I can. He and I can still be friends without you having to see him. He won’t mind. I definitely needed the - uh - contact more than he did. And maybe I can -” Steve’s hand flinched out towards Tony uncertainly, and Tony snatched it before it could disappear again, winding their fingers together.

“I can help with the touch stuff, gladly. If you want that.”

“I want that.”

They both stared at their joined hands for a moment.

“Hey, Steve?” Tony asked.

“Yes?”

“Remember when you kissed me and I pushed you away?”

“You mean five minutes ago?” Steve laughed. “Yes, I remember that.”

“I only pushed you away because I thought you were cheating on your boyfriend.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Well, I know that now.”

“Well, actually,” Steve added, “I’m kind of hoping I do. Now.”

Tony raked his up to meet Steve’s. His cheeks were dusted with pink and his eyes were wide. “Maybe we could try that kissing thing again?”

Steve leaned towards him, hesitating this time, but when Tony tightened his hold on Steve’s hand and leaned in too, Steve tipped down the rest of the way and pressed their lips together. This time, Tony was able to sink into it with nothing but pure pleasure, all the fear and guilt gone away. Steve wanted this, wanted  _him_. How on Earth was he this lucky?

“I’ve wanted that for a long time,” Steve admitted when they parted. “I’ve always liked you but I didn’t know how to tell you. You’re so experienced, and - and smooth, I thought you might laugh at me.”

“I would never laugh at you.” Tony stroked his fingers along Steve’s jaw. “Steve, last time I saw you kiss him, I broke the faucet in the shared kitchen. I’m not smooth. It’s just an illusion caused by wearing very expensive pants.” Tony’s grin bloomed slowly. “Get me out of them and I’ll show you how unsmooth I am.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Steve snorted with surprised laughter, then broke into full, chest-shaking peals. He reached out and hauled Tony into his arms, throwing him over his shoulder until they were both laughing. “Alright, mister.” He stood and headed for the door, Tony in tow. “I think we have several weeks of cuddling to make up for.”

“Just cuddling?” Tony asked, reaching down to sneak a handful of Steve’s perfect butt as he hung upside down.

Steve poked him hard in the thigh then dropped him to his feet again in the elevator, crowding him up against the wall. “Anything you want. All I want is you.”

And after three and a half weeks of watching Steve want someone else, thinking he was alone in this, that was the most wonderful thing Tony could ever have imagined hearing. “Well, sweetheart? I am  _all_ yours.”


	17. Honeymoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This,” Tony gasped, “was such a good idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, established relationship, laughing, love.
> 
> Rated: M

Tony backed Steve up against the elevator wall and kissed him until the swooping in his stomach was from more than just rocketing up eighteen floors. Steve pulled away from Tony’s mouth and nibbled his way behind his ear and down his neck. **  
**

“This,” Tony gasped, “was such a good idea.”

“Skipping dinner?” Steve asked.

“Getting married.”

Steve snorted. “I have to agree. I can’t wait to wake up next to my husband tomorrow.”

Tony pulled back and raked his eyes suggestively down to where Steve’s top button was popped open. “I more meant because then we get this honeymoon, but sure, get all sappy about it.”

The doors opened and they stumbled out, wrapped around each other, giggling. Tony swiped their keycard to open the door, and Steve caught him around the waist and hauled him into the suite, dodging his kicking legs, and dissolving into uncontrollable laughter. It was a beautiful room, but neither of them was looking at the scenery.

Steve tossed Tony over his shoulder and marched across the room, shoving their suitcase out of the way, then tackled him backwards onto the bed, making him yelp. Tony clutched at Steve’s sides as Steve urged him into a kiss, rapidly turning from heated to full-on filthy. When Tony arched his hips up and Steve felt how eager he was to take this further, he straightened up and tugged his t-shirt over his head.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Tony murmured, already working on his own pants. “All mine.”

“It’s all yours,” Steve agreed, shedding his pants and underwear. Steve crawled back up over Tony drawing a path up kisses up his chest. Tony was warm and solid in his arms, and he couldn’t help pausing at Tony’s left hand, rested on his stomach, and kissing the place where a golden band now sat. The rest of Tony’s clothes disappeared in a heartbeat.

Tony let out a breath then wriggled backwards towards the centre of the bed, drawing Steve back with him. He stretched out wide then wrapped himself around Steve, arms and legs, stretching up for another kiss, bare skin pressed tantalizingly close.

And -

They fell.

With a startled cry, the bed parted and they slotted down the middle like bread into a toaster, the sheets folding up around them on each side. They came to a stop, wedged in place, and Steve realized that what was advertised as a king bed was actually two smaller beds pushed together and covered over with sheets and blankets. They clearly didn’t expect the weight of two people to land right on the seam because it had been enough to pop the sheets off the corners and split the beds. And now they were stuck.

There was a quiet moment of startled contemplation, and then Tony burst out laughing, his whole body shaking where he was still wrapped in Steve’s arms.

“Oh my god, we’re stuck,” Tony hollered. “We’re going to die here, naked, trapped between two beds. Housekeeping is going to have to rescue us.” He snorted and set off laughing again.

Steve couldn’t help laughing too. “We’re not going to die, I can get us out.” But when he tried to brace his hand on the floor to push up, the tension of the sheet caught and he slipped, landing fully on Tony and rubbing their naked bodies together.

Tony’s chuckle turned darker. “Hello, sailor.”

Tony’s hand curled around Steve’s hip then slipped lower, and Steve sighed into his shoulder. He arched back, tried to get a handhold again, slipped again, and was set off into uproarious laughter again.

Tony clutched him close, giggling into his neck even as his hand kept up its teasing explorations. “We’re going to die here.”

Steve stretched up and looked down at his new husband’s beautiful face, framed in the crisp white sheets and glowing with the soft blue of the arc reactor. “Yeah, maybe,” he admitted with a grin, “but what a way to go.”


	18. The B-Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, established relationship.
> 
> Rated: T

Tony breathed in the Avengers Tower air with a smile. It had been too long. Way too long. He dropped his bags in the elevator, trusting JARVIS to get one of the bots to take them up to the penthouse, and got off at Steve’s floor. He was thirsty and starving and knew that if he didn’t unpack now, he’d just end up buying new clothes instead, but he’d been on a plane for what felt like thirty-six consecutive hours, and he hadn’t seen his boyfriend in better resolution than a five-inch StarkPhone screen in six weeks. So right now, more than anything, Tony needed two hundred and twenty pounds of supersoldier wrapped around him. Everything else could wait. **  
**

But Steve’s floor was quiet and dark. There was no sleeping form tucked under the blankets in the bedroom, no light on in the bathroom, the balcony was still and empty and no mug sat on the kitchen counter and curled steam into the air.

Tony tried the penthouse next, giving in and kicking his bags out into the foyer himself. Here, there were signs of Steve. Signs that his boyfriend of five months had crept up here in Tony’s absence, curling on the couch they’d watched movies on together and stealing Tony’s hoodies to wear to bed. It sent a hot flush of pleasure through Tony’s veins to find his apartment so lived in after so long, and it made him yearn for a closer future where they shared this space all the time. Surely, it was too soon to ask Steve to move in? But, it seemed, Steve had one foot in the door already, and Tony loved it.

But he wasn’t here now. The lights were off, the air was filled with nothing but the hum of electronics, and the smell of Steve’s aftershave was distant and faded.

Tony knew he could text him, or ask JARVIS, but Steve had said he’d be home when Tony got in, and there was only one other place he could be.

He took the elevator again, this time to the shared floor beneath the apartments, where the home theatre, and the nerf guns, and the biggest kitchen lived. Here, finally, was bustling with activity. As soon as Tony stepped out, Thor and Clint threw themselves at him, pulling him into a hug. Thor patted him enthusiastically on the back when he pulled away, and Tony stumbled forwards.

“Welcome back, man! We missed ya.” Clint grinned.

“Well, I didn’t miss any of you,” Tony said with a wink. He sighed down at the disgraceful state of his garbage disposal. He tried to be happy to see his team, and he really was, but there was only one person he needed, and it seemed he wasn’t here. “Where’s Steve?”

Natasha smiled indulgently. “He’s probably on the roof. He’s been up there a lot with the B-team since you left.”

“Huh.” Tony was already setting off for the elevators. The roof… Steve never used to spend time on the roof, but okay, if that was where he was, Tony would go. The doors started to close. “Wait! What’s the B-team?” But Natasha disappeared behind the closing doors before she could answer.

The elevator shot up again, and Tony leaned against the back wall, eyes closed. He was exhausted, but he’d be damned if he didn’t get his hands on his boyfriend before he finally crashed. He pondered what the B-team might be. Was Steve training new recruit Avengers… on the roof?

The roof was built in two layers, the upper one windy and wild - where Loki’s device had been - but the lower was shielded by one wall of the penthouse, and it made a calm extra balcony that Tony never used. As far as he knew, Steve never used it either.

But when the door opened, Tony saw the roof was completely transformed. There were two long troughs filled with flowering plants along either side of a row of small, white dog-house shaped, wooden boxes. There was a bench in the corner, and a new cabinet that Tony didn’t recognize. He’d been gone for six weeks, but it was starting to feel like six years.

Steve was standing over one of the dog houses, his back to Tony, his hips shaking softly side to side in a samba beat Tony had taught him last time they’d gone dancing. Tony wanted to watch him, but he wanted to touch him more. “Steve!”

Steve spun around and burst into the most brilliant smile Tony had ever seen. Tony set off across the roof, ready to fling himself into Steve’s arms, but Steve held out a hand, halting him. “Wait,” he called. “They’re not great with strangers. I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re not allergic, are you?” Steve crossed the roof instead, winding between the sudden collection of stuff to get to Tony.

Tony stopped, peering at the white boxes and trying to figure out what Steve was talking about. But they weren’t dog houses. There weren’t any dogs in them. “Oh,” Tony said. “The  _Bee-Team.”_

Steve beamed. “Clint showed me this video about rooftop beekeeping and it looked so amazing. You told me I could put whatever I wanted on that credit card, so I ordered some stuff, got the bees all set up and grew them some food.” He gestured towards the plants and shuffled a little on his heels. “You know… I wanted it to be a surprise, but now I feel like I really should have asked you if it was okay.”

Tony reached out and snagged Steve’s belt then dragged him backwards out of the stinger zone. “Don’t be stupid. This is amazing. Of course I don’t mind. And, no, I’m not allergic, but I’d still prefer not to get stung. Shouldn’t you have one of those mesh hats?” Tony tapped Steve’s bare forehead then dipped in to steal a kiss before he could answer.

Steve held Tony close, arms latching behind his back, and kissed him stupid, the cool breeze whipping away the hot flush that burst on the back of Tony’s neck. “God, I missed you so much,” Steve whispered.

“Me too.” Tony kissed him again. “Of course, I didn’t feel the need to replace you with a hundred little, yellow, furry butts.”

Steve grinned. “They’re all named Tony.”

“Of course they are.”

“And I do have one of those mesh hats, I just don’t need it. They don’t sting me much at all anymore and the serum means I hardly feel it.” Steve’s eyes lit up with a kind of glow Tony hadn’t seen in them before. “They make honey, Tony! Avengers honey! Nat’s going to help me get set up to sell it online for charity.”

“That’s amazing.” He eyed up the rooftop garden. It really was. He’d never thought to do anything with this space, but it was nice to think that the tower was helping create something good. Tony gestured towards the bees. “You going to introduce me?”

Steve hummed thoughtfully then wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and drove him backwards towards the door to the penthouse. “Maybe later. You can put on the mesh hat. For now… I really missed you.”

Tony sunk into Steve’s hold, letting himself be moved. “Let’s get reacquainted, hot stuff.” He ruffled his hands through Steve’s hair. “And then you can show me what all the buzz is about.”

Steve laughed as they stumbled back into the penthouse together, and Tony feared his heart might burst with all the love he tried to fit inside it. He was never, ever going to give this amazing man up.


	19. The Challenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A hundred bucks.”
> 
> Clint scoffed. “Come on, Stark, are you high? There’s no way you can beat Steve. He’s chemically enhanced.”
> 
> “Two hundred bucks,” Tony said, smirking, eyes never leaving Steve’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flirting, arm wrestling, happy team.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> Thanks to CrimsonBlueMoon for the inspiring idea! <3

“A hundred bucks.” **  
**

Clint scoffed. “Come on, Stark, are you high? There’s no way you can beat Steve. He’s chemically enhanced.”

“Two hundred bucks,” Tony said, smirking, eyes never leaving Steve’s.

Steve opened his mouth then closed it. Opened it again. “You really think you can beat me?” He crossed his arms, flexing his biceps, and smiled when Tony traced their twin bulges with his eyes.

“Yup.” He nodded firmly. “I know I can.”

“You’re going to break his arm,” Clint said to Steve.

“He’s going to cheat,” Natasha added.

Steve pinned Tony with a penetrating stare, but the other man didn’t waver. “Alright… but the money goes to charity. And the loser cooks dinner for the winner.”

“Deal.” Tony held out his hand, and Steve shook it.

Tony’s hand in his made Steve knot up with apprehension. Tony felt so breakable in his hold - there was no way he was going to win, and Clint might be right, Steve could break his arm. “Are you sure?” Steve asked.

“Hey! No backing out now.” Tony pulled out a small card table and settled on one side, arm up, hand open.

Steve sat on the other, shooting a nervous look to the spies. Clint shot him a thumbs-up, his phone out and presumably recording. Steve was pretty good at holding back his super strength, but sometimes it was still hard to judge what a regular human could take. He worked his elbow into a good spot then took Tony’s hand, tamping down the inevitable thrill of touching the other man.

Tony met Steve’s eyes, and it made Steve’s heart pound, the glint of challenge mixed in with a warmth that Steve was never going to be able to see without feeling weak in the knees. It was getting hard, at this point, for Steve to hide his crush, but if Tony had noticed, he wasn’t bothered. He never said anything and he didn’t pull away, still always there when Steve needed him.

Nat walked over and raised her palm above them. Tony adjusted his fingers and leaned in, close enough that Steve could smell his cologne. His head spun, and he cleared his throat, settling his hand in Tony’s.  

“Ready?” Nat asked. They both nodded. “Go!”

She dropped her hand, and Steve tensed, not pressing, but matching the pressure Tony was exerting, keeping them locked in the middle. Tony pushed, but not with his full strength, and Steve looked up to ask him if that was all he had, when Tony leaned forward, erasing the last few inches between them and pressing his lips to Steve’s.

If Tony’s intention was simply to distract Steve, he was deeply dedicated to the task. He teased Steve’s mouth open with his tongue and licked inside, pushing the kiss deep and dirty immediately. Surprise and pleasure hummed their way through Steve, drowning out everything else until all he knew was Tony’s mouth. Tony kissed like a drowning man searching for air, and it was all Steve could do not to climb over the table and find it for him. He was hot and insistent, eager and driving, and it was everything Steve had ever wanted.

When Steve’s lungs started to burn, Tony pulled back, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip as he sucked in a sharp breath. Then he looked down.

Their hands were still wound together, but more like an embrace than a challenge. The back of Steve’s hand was pressed to the table, Tony’s lying placidly on top.

Steve blinked.

Clint howled with laughter, doubled over, arms wrapped around his sides. “Oh my goddd!” he whined.

“Told you he was going to cheat,” Nat said.

But Steve only had eyes for Tony. Tony, who was smiling at him like the world had suddenly righted itself, which, Steve supposed, it had. Steve broke into a smile of his own, and Tony’s widened.

“So…” Tony said, voice low and just for them, “about that dinner…”


	20. The Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Steve! You have to go to prom with me!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> High school AU, prom, promposal, pining, confessions.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> For Happy Steve Bingo!

“Steve! You have to go to prom with me!” **  
**

Steve all but caught Tony as he came barrelling down the hall and nearly collided with Steve’s open locker. “What?”

“You have to go to prom with me.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat. “I - you - what? Why?” Had Tony finally figured out that Steve had been in love with him for upwards of six months now?

“Brock and Justin made a bet with me that I couldn’t get the hottest guy in school to go to prom with me.” Tony grinned and bounced on his toes. “They don’t know we know each other! They bet me fifty bucks.”

Steve tried not to show the disappointment on his face. “Oh.”

Tony’s brow creased and he rocked back on his heels. “Unless - oh were you going to ask someone? You just said last week you were gonna go stag with Bucky and Peggy, and I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind. I’ll split the money with you. It’s mostly just to see the look on their faces.”

“Wait. Hottest guy?” Steve shot Tony an incredulous look as he dug out his books and slammed his locker shut.

Tony shrugged. “Sure. Everyone agrees. But will you go?”

Steve felt the back of his neck heating. Hottest? Really? If Tony thought he was hot, why didn’t he want to go to prom for real? But Steve loved him too much to deny him this, knowing that Tony wouldn’t push it, would accept it, but would look like a stomped puppy for a week and a half. “Sure. I guess. What would it entail?”

“Just prom stuff. You wouldn’t have to kiss me or anything.” Tony laughed, and Steve choked on nothing. “Hold my hand, maybe dance a little, show up together, leave together. And if Brock or Justin asks, you say I asked you and you said yes.” Tony trotted along at Steve’s side as they walked down the hall. “I mean if we were going to go as friends anyway, it wouldn’t be that different… right? I guess… unless there was someone you wanted to ask?”

There was someone he wanted to ask. But that someone had just asked him. Sort of. “No. There’s no one.”

“I wouldn’t want your crush to think you’re taken.” Tony bumped Steve’s shoulder with his.

“It’s fine, Tony. I’ll do it. I don’t mind.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Steve forced himself to smile. “Those guys are assholes. I don’t know why you keep going to that club when they treat you like they do. I’ll do pretty much anything to show them up.”  _And to show them that someone has your back,_  Steve added silently.

Tony shrugged again. “I like the rest of computer club. And I like Mr. Fury. They’re not that bad.”

Steve hummed and fell silent. They made their way out the back door and across the football field towards Tony’s house. It had become habit, somehow, to go to Tony’s after school on Fridays. Tony’s parents were never home, and Bucky and Peggy both had activities on Fridays. So it was just the two of them. What had started out as convenience had ended up being the most treasured night of the week for Steve.

He didn’t see much of Tony during the school week. Tony was a two years younger and one grade above Steve, but Peggy knew Tony through their parents, so when he transferred to their school at the beginning of the year, she’d introduced them. And now… well now it was the knowledge that he’d have Tony to himself for four hours every Friday that got Steve through the rest of the week.

“What do you want to play?” Tony asked, when they made their way to the huge suite that served as his room. He dumped his bag by the door and flopped into a bean bag chair in front of the TV.

“I don’t care,” Steve said. “Anything.”

He would have watched paint dry as long as he was doing it with Tony. They worked their way through most of Tony’s vast library of fighting games.

“So… next week?” Tony said as Steve tugged his backpack back on at the end of the night.

Steve blinked at him, tilting his head in question.

“I mean. We’ll be at prom instead of here.”

“Oh right. It’s next week? Okay. What should I wear?”

Tony considered him for a moment. “Why don’t you just come here after school like normal and we’ll get ready together. I can get you a suit -”

“Tony you don’t have to -”

Tony shut him up with a look. “This is my thing, okay? I’m not going to make you get a suit for it. Bring Buck and Pegs or whoever, and I’ll get us all a car, we can arrive as a group.”

“Okay.” Steve hung in the doorway, heart pounding. This suddenly seemed like both the best and worst idea imaginable. There was nothing he wanted more than to spend a night with Tony, dancing, holding hands, but even with the excuse that he was trying to make it seem convincing, Steve was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to make it through the night without giving his feelings away. “Okay,” he said again, stupidly. Then he turned on his heel and left.

He had the whole walk home to think about Tony, a common theme for his walks home Friday nights. Tony was funny - hilarious - and kind, and silly, and generous, and he had this way of assuming that once someone was in his life they were all the way in. He’d always made Steve feel like there was nothing he wouldn’t tell him, nothing he wouldn’t give him if he asked.

And now he was going to prom with him. Well… it might be nice to pretend, just for a night.

**

In the end, Bucky, Sam, Clint, and Peggy all opted to ride in with them. Clint and Bucky had been on-again-off-again for so long, Steve wasn’t surprised to see them holding hands as the gang trailed off across the field towards Tony’s place.

Peggy and Bucky peeled off to go the two blocks to Peggy’s place and get their stuff - Bucky had stashed his there earlier - and Sam and Clint both lugged garment bags along with their backpacks. Steve had nothing but his only pair of dress shoes in a grocery bag that bumped against his leg as he walked.

It was easier, with the whole group. He could convince himself that this was no different than if they’d gone as a group of friends. But when he stepped out of the bathroom in the extremely luxurious suit Tony had somehow acquired for him - perfectly fitted - Tony stood far too close and tucked a white flower in his buttonhole with a smile. It matched the one Tony was wearing.

It was too easy and too painful to think about what this would be like if it were real, but Steve grit his jaw and forced himself to smile and laugh and joke with the gang like everything was normal.

Tony had also rented a limo, picking up Peggy and Bucky on the way, and Steve had to admit that part was fun. At the doors to the gymnasium, Tony paused and held his hand out, his eyes going soft and his smile wavering a bit. Steve looked down at his offered hand then slipped his own in it, wrapping his fingers around Tony’s. Tony’s hand was warm but not sweaty, and his fingers threaded perfectly in between Steve’s like they were puzzle pieces made to fit together.

The dance was hopping already. There were tables surrounding a huge dance floor and a live band. The dance floor was already full, couples and groups bouncing and swaying to the music. Their group claimed a table, and Clint dragged Bucky off to dance with a smirk.  

Being at prom  _with_ Tony wasn’t that different from being there with Tony, plus everyone else. Clint sat in Bucky’s lap and whispered thing in his ear that made him laugh then punch Clint on the arm, but Tony didn’t sit in Steve’s lap. He pulled his chair close when they sat, and only rested a hand on Steve’s forearm now and then, but for Steve, that was almost as much as a lapful of Tony. He was so close, smelled so good, and his fingers kept petting over the petals of the flower in his lapel.

Every time the music went soft and slow, Steve tried to get his tongue to ask Tony to dance, but he couldn’t manage it. It would be good for the illusion - so far, they wouldn’t look to anyone else like more than touchy-feely friends - but Tony blushed and avoided his eye each time, and Steve didn’t have the strength to break through that.

They did dance, though, when the songs were upbeat and they could go out as a group. And Tony stuck close to Steve’s side, smiling up at him whenever their eyes met. It wasn’t long before they were sweating and laughing, stumbling back to their table when the band took a break.

Everyone declared at once that they were thirsty, so Steve agreed to guard their stuff while the others went to grab drinks. Tony promised to bring him something back. Steve was flipping through Twitter on his phone when a foot bumped against Steve’s. He looked up then scowled when he saw Justin and Brock smirking down at him.

“So how much did he pay you, Rogers?” Brock asked.

“What?” Steve clenched his hands into fists at his side.

“How much did Stark have to pay you to take his scrawny ass to prom?”

Steve took two breaths then slowly rose to his full height, shoving into Brock’s space and making him stumble backwards into Justin. “If you have a vested interest in your own health and well-being, you’ll shut your mouth right now and fuck right off. Even if Tony weren’t my boyfriend - with a fantastic ass, by the way - I don’t like bullies, and I don’t like the shit you two assholes pull. You’d better leave Tony alone. After paying out on your stupid little bet, of course.”

Brock took another step backwards, but he shot a look to Justin and they both sneered. “Whatever. I still don’t believe he didn’t have to pay you. Now you’re just, what? His bodyguard? Fucking rich kids.”

“What’s going on?” Tony appeared at Steve’s side, and Steve immediately snapped out and grabbed his elbow, tugging him in tight against his side.

“Nothing,” Steve said, heart crawling up into his throat. What he was about to do - he wasn’t going to be able to take back. “These jerk-offs were just leaving.” He turned to face Tony, trying to broadcast his intent on the way in. “Thanks for getting me a drink, babe,” he whispered softly. And then he kissed Tony.

Tony’s hands snapped to Steve’s shoulders and held on for dear life as he slumped nearly boneless in Steve’s arms. Steve caught him, holding him up easily. And as he suspected, once he starting kissing Tony, he couldn’t stop. A short peck probably would have convinced the bullies, but Tony was warm and soft and pliant in his arms, and his lips moved gently against Steve’s, sucking in sharp breaths through his nose.

Steve’s heart started pounding when he realized he had absolutely no justification for dragging this out any longer and he pulled back with a sigh. He saw the moment Tony clicked it all into place, eyes flicking back and forth between Steve’s, still near dead weight in his arms. His mouth fell open in a small “o” and his eyes went wider and wider as Steve felt six months of feelings pour out of his expression, unstemmable.

He set Tony back on his feet and stepped back. Justin and Brock were gone and there was a fifty dollar bill on the table next to Steve’s phone. He swallowed hard, tried to speak, couldn’t.

Tony knew. They’d won the bet, but now Tony knew how he felt and he wouldn’t be able to take it back. Steve turned on his heel and fled, pushing out the back doors of the gym and out towards the football field.

“Steve, wait!”

He could hear the huff-puff of Tony’s breath as he jogged across the grass and then an  _oof_  as he tripped over something. Steve stopped immediately and spun around to find Tony on his knees, wiping grass and mud off his palm. Steve walked back with a sigh and helped him back up to his feet, dropping Tony’s arm as soon as he was steady. He looked down at the ground. “You should go back in…”

“Only if you come with me,” Tony said stubbornly.

Steve sighed. “You don’t have to pretend, Tony. I know things are going to be weird now. I think it’s pretty obvious how I - uh - how I…”

“…Feel?”

“Yeah. So. I think it’s best if I go home. You should stay and have a good time, though. Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll be fine.” Steve turned to go, but Tony’s hand snatched a fistful of his suit jacket.

“Wait.” Tony sounded almost desperate. “Just wait. I -”

Steve stilled in Tony’s hold, but still couldn’t meet his eyes. “Tony…”

“That kiss felt really real.”

Steve finally peeled his eyes up from the ground and found Tony’s. They were wide in the dim light that spilled out of the gym. “It was real,” Steve admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” It was Tony’s turn to blink at him. “Don’t be sorry… that was amazing. That was - uh - that was my first kiss.”

Steve stomach dropped out. “Oh god, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have taken that from you for a stupid bet.”

“You didn’t take anything from me.” Tony tugged on Steve’s sleeve and he gave in easily, helplessly, stumbling into Tony as Tony leaned up on his toes, caught the side of Steve’s face with his other hand and kissed Steve again. Steve jolted back in surprise, but Tony’s fingers tightened and he pressed forward. “Steve…” he muttered, lips brushing, “stop worrying about what that kiss said about you and starting paying attention to what this says about me.” And Tony kissed him again.

Tony’s lips were warm and soft against Steve’s, not practiced or fancy, but comfortable and confident. He leaned forward against Steve’s chest and tipped his chin up to angle the kiss deeper. Steve’s arms were full of Tony’s solid, warm weight, and he could taste the hint of cherry soda on Tony’s tongue when he parted his lips and let it dart inside.

This kiss went on, shifting hotter and more intense as Tony explored Steve’s mouth with his tongue and Steve’s hands crept up Tony’s back. Tony kissed Steve like he’d find an extension for his finals at the back of Steve’s throat and it was  _amazing._  And he could feel it: Tony wanted this too.

When they parted, Steve struggled to catch his breath. “Really?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Tony smiled softly and fiddled with the lapel on Steve’s jacket. “Really. It’s always been you. Why do you think I let you win at Street Fighter so much?”

Steve snorted. “Let?” He pulled Tony in and kissed him again, because he could. “Let nothing…”

They tripped back into kisses with no end in sight, until a door opened and closed behind them and the sudden burst of music from the dance eased them apart. “Hey, Steve?” Tony asked.

“Yeah?”

Tony grinned, eyes twinkling. “Will you go to prom with me?” Tony took a step back and held his hand out.

Steve took it. “I would love to.”

Tony led the way back inside, and drew Steve right out onto the dance floor and into his arms. Steve held him tight, afraid that if he let him go, he’d wake up and it would all disappear. He buried his face in Tony’s hair and breathed in, unable to stop grinning, unable to stop tracing the length of Tony’s spine with his fingers. Tony swirled his fingertips through the hair at the nape of Steve’s neck and pressed another kiss to his jawline. “We’re going to use the bet money to go on a really nice date,” he said.

And Steve couldn’t imagine being happier.


	21. Two Sugars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Two sugars,” Steve said, then he stilled, heart dropping down into his shoes. It took a moment for what he’d said to sink in, but he saw when it clicked and Tony looked up from his phone, brow twisted in confusion.
> 
> “How do you know?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, coffeeshop AU, flirting.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> Thanks to summerpipedream for the inspiring idea! (For Happy Steve Bingo)

“Two sugars,” Steve said, then he stilled, heart dropping down into his shoes. It took a moment for what he’d said to sink in, but he saw when it clicked and Tony looked up from his phone, brow twisted in confusion.

“How do you know?”

Steve rolled the styrofoam cup nervously between his fingers, still clutching the sharpie in the other hand. He shrugged, trying to pass it off as nothing. “You come in every day. I have a good memory.”

Tony lay a hand flat on the counter and leaned in. “I have a good memory too. The last time I ordered black with two sugars was two and a half weeks ago.”

“Uh…” Steve frowned down at the cash register. It didn’t seem like Tony was going to let this go. If he refused to explain it, they’d probably lose a customer, but if he did, Tony would be so freaked out by Steve’s weird obsession that Steve would probably lose his job. “It’s nothing, really…” Steve said quietly, praying that Tony would brush it off.

But instead he just shifted closer. “Tell me.”

“You come in every weekday morning during my shift.”

Tony nodded.

Steve sighed. “I just - I notice what you order. I know it’s not always the same, but there’s a pattern.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed.  _“I_ know there’s a pattern, but how the f-” His voice dropped to a near whisper and he was radiating anger now. “How the  _fuck_  do you know what it is?”

“I’m sorry,” Steve squeaked. “I just - I notice things. You - you - have your black briefcase today, so you order black coffee two sugars. If you’re wearing your glasses, you get a mocha. If you’re in jeans instead of a suit you get one cream one sugar. If you’re on the phone and frowning, you get an espresso, usually two, actually. On the first of the month you get a box of muffins - one has to be carrot - and on the fifteenth you get two cream cheese danishes. That’s - I’m sorry. I just… I have a good memory and I can’t, you know… turn it off.”

Tony gaped at him for a long time in complete silence. “You -” He didn’t seem mad anymore, just stunned which Steve took to be a move in the right direction.

Steve hovered the sharpie over the cup and waited, frozen to the spot. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony shook his head. “You really noticed all of that?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony set his briefcase down by his feet and glanced around at the shop. It was mostly empty - people at this time of the morning came and went - and there was no line. “I bring this briefcase when I have an investor’s meeting and I need the extra sugar to get me through it. Glasses are if I slept in late and didn’t have time to put my contacts in. Mocha helps wake me up for some reason. On the phone at this time of morning means foreign shit which always stresses me out and it’s going to be a four espresso kind of day. First of the month I take muffins to accounting. Lainey only likes carrot. Fifteenth is my monthly review meeting with my PA. I get us both danishes. Oh and jeans means I’m in the workshop all day. Then I get what I actually like best because I’m going to have a chance to enjoy it.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I snapped. I didn’t realize I wore my schedule quite so on my sleeve. I have to worry about corporate espionage and stuff.” Tony rubbed his hand over his face.

“It’s alright. It’s not really, I mean, it’s not a normal thing… to notice. You were right to be freaked out. But it’s totally innocent, I swear. I don’t know anything about your company.” Steve resisted the urge to shove the sharpie cap between his teeth and start chewing. “Sorry.”

Tony gave him a careful once-over and something shifted in his gaze. “You should be a corporate spy. People pay good money for attention to detail like that.”

“Um,” Steve said, hoping to god his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.  "It'snotwitheveryone.“

The corner of Tony’s lips quirked up. "No? Just big corporate billionaires?”

There was something playful in Tony’s voice, so Steve took a breath then took a chance. “No… just kind, attractive regulars.”

Tony broke into a full smile. “Well… you are right. Black, two sugars. But there’s something else I want today as well, if you have it in stock.”

“Yeah? Anything you like, Mr. Stark.” Steve deflated with relief. Tony didn’t seem mad about it, amused if anything, so there was a chance Steve would get out of this with his job and his regulars list intact.

“Mhm.” Tony leaned over onto the counter and looked up at Steve through far too many, long, dark eyelashes. “Your number.”

Steve opened his mouth in surprise then closed it again, gaze cutting down to the cup in his hand, he tried to keep his grin under control, but he knew he must look like an idiot. He checked off the sugar box on the cup twice, wrote “Tony” at the top then scrawled his phone number underneath.

Looked like he was getting out of this with his job, his favourite regular, and a date.


	22. Like a Fine Wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “God, I feel like robbing a bank,” Tony said, bouncing along at Steve’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> De-aged Tony, Tony in his 20s, Established Relationship, Fluff, Cute, Some Tony Feels.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> For Happy Steve Bingo!

“God, I feel like robbing a bank,” Tony said, bouncing along at Steve’s side. **  
**

Steve snorted then reached out and wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulders, tugging him in close. “Don’t you dare.”

“It’s just like - all this energy and bounce and I don’t know where to put it.”

“Have some caution there, Mr. Stark,” Steve warned with a smile. “Thor said the spell would wear off in four to twenty-four hours and I don’t want you to suddenly find yourself fifty-two again at the top of a tree or Mount Everest or something. Or wearing a ski mask behind a teller desk.”

“Excuse me. Fifty-one.”

Steve laughed. “I was rounding up. Your birthday is in three weeks.”

“Don’t deny me those three weeks, Steven. I intend to make them most of them. Besides, I’m not fifty-one,  _now,_  so I think we should make the most of that too.” He reached around and shoved his hand in Steve’s back pocket then squeezed. Hard.

“Tony!” Steve jolted forward then rounded on him with a glare.

“I’m feeling young and reckless,” Tony said, eyes twinkling, “better get me home and out of harm’s way.”

“Oh, you -” Steve broke off with a growl then he reached out and hauled a laughing Tony into his arms. He threw him over his shoulder, surprised by how light a Tony in his twenties was, and made for the quinjet. He dropped Tony in his seat then sat beside him, legs thrown over Tony’s lap to pin him where he was.

He looked up to give a wave to Clint in the pilot’s seat, letting him know they were good for takeoff, and he could see him holding back a smile.

“You looking out for Tony while he’s all discombobulated?” Natasha asked, eyebrow quirking up.

“Someone has to,” Tony replied with a cheeky smirk of his own. “I’m sure Steve and I can find a way to… pass the time…”

“Gross,” Bruce said from his seat in the corner. “We don’t want to know.”

Tony opened his mouth again but Steve slapped his hand over it, silencing him. “I’ll sit on him until it wears off.” Tony licked his palm then mumbled _yeah you will,_  but only Steve could hear it. He hoped he wasn’t blushing.

Tony managed to behave himself as they flew back to the tower, then he sprung out of his seat and dragged Steve off towards the penthouse. Steve let himself be dragged, unable to hold back a smile of his own. It was pretty wild to see Tony like this. His features were softer, smoother, his face a little rounder, and his trademark goatee was missing. They’d estimated that Tony had been blasted back to around twenty-three or twenty-four, and it was hard to believe he was around the age Steve had been when he’d joined the army.

Tony pulled them both into the penthouse then immediately took all his clothes off. Steve watched, helpless, as Tony gazed at himself in the mirror. His chest was smooth and perfect, no lines, no scars. Well -

“What’s this from?” Steve reached out and stroked his thumb over Tony’s rib where a stark white line broke the smooth olive skin. Steve had never noticed it before.

Tony chuckled. “Oh. That’s from when I was ten and I watched Mary Poppins and I tried to jump out of the third story window with an umbrella.”

Steve smoothed over it with his thumb, shaking his head affectionately. There was a new mark there now - on the Tony of now - a ragged, red mark from when Tony had taken a hit from a Doombot without his armour.

Tony turned around in front of the mirror, eyes fixed on himself. “So weird.” Then he turned to Steve. “So what do you think?”

Steve smirked. “Oh yeah? There is no right answer to that question, sweetheart.”

“Aww, come on. Would you date younger me?”

“Of course I would. I love every version of you. But it would be very odd to be the older one.”

“You’re already the older one, pizza pop, but I get your point.” Tony turned suddenly and disappeared into his bedroom. Steve followed him in and just caught sight of his ankle slipping into the huge walk-in closet. Steve sat on the bed and waited.

There was a rumble and a grunt and then a moment later, Tony appeared wearing the most ridiculous outfit Steve had ever seen. Baggy jeans hid all of his curves and edges, smothered over by a huge multi-coloured, multi-patterned, button-up shirt and a puffy, blue windbreaker with neon patches on the shoulders. Tony pushed aviator sunglasses up onto his forehead then threw his arms wide and winked. “Ta da!”

Steve burst into helpless laughter. “Oh my god, did you really save that from your twenties?”

“Authentic 90s apparel. I have a few boxes back here from Malibu storage that I’ve never gone through. Can I still pull it off?”

Steve shook his head through his laughter. “No, not at all. Please, Tony. I’m really glad I slept through the neon years.”

Tony laughed too then crossed the room to climb up into Steve’s lap. Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and nuzzled into the collar of his shirt to press a kiss to his throat. “You know…” he murmured, soft and low, vibrating in his chest. “I have a lot more stamina this way. I can feel it.” Tony rocked forward in Steve’s lap and Steve’s breath caught. “We should probably make use of it while we can.”

Steve skated his palms up Tony’s smooth, slight back. They should probably just wait patiently for the spell to wear off but… Tony nipped at Steve’s bottom lip and Steve flipped him onto the bed with a growl, swallowing down his laughter with a kiss.

At least this would keep Tony from wandering off and doing something reckless.

**

Steve woke to his ears popping and Tony’s startled shout. He jerked back as the man in his arms shuddered from head to foot and then sat up. Tony was back to former self, his  _normal_  self. Tony was fifty-one again.

Steve could see the moment it hit him, when the humour of earlier wore off in the face of suddenly aging thirty years in a single heartbeat. He could see the disappointment Tony tried to hide, the slight shake to his breath, the way his jaw clenched while he stared resolutely at his hands.

“Come here,” Steve whispered, drawing Tony back down onto his chest. He rolled them over until Tony was on his back, caged in Steve’s arms. Steve drew a line of kisses along Tony’s collarbone. He breathed him in. “You smelled different, under the spell. Now you smell normal again. Like home.”

Tony’s hands found Steve’s hair and ruffled through it. “I’m sure you would have gotten used to it.” Tony sighed. “You can’t tell me it wouldn’t be nice for you to be in a relationship with someone closer to your own age.”

“The only person I want to be in a relationship with is you. Whatever age you are.”

Tony lifted his hands again and turned them back and forth. “These haven’t aged well. Too much use. And, god, I’m just a mess of scars. Barely any me left under there.”

Steve blocked Tony’s view of his hands with is own head, leaning in for a kiss. “I think all of you has aged beautifully,” Steve whispered against his lips.

“Like stinky cheese,” Tony said.

“Like a fine wine.” Steve kissed him soundly. “Only better with age. And as much as it hurts to see them all, I love every line on you because every one is a win. Each time, you walked away with your life, and that’s what matters most.” Steve worked his way down Tony’s chest, kissing and nipping each line and wrinkle and scar. When he got to Tony’s ribs he could see, under the dark mark from the Doombot, a thin white line poking out. He rubbed the pad of his thumb over it. “Mary Poppins, huh?”

Tony shrugged, smiling now. “The physics seemed sound, or at the very least, very desirable. I may have been a genius, but I was still a ten-year-old. Every ten-year-old wants to fly.”

“And you have.” Steve smirked. “But not until your forties. Guess some things do take time.”

“I know you’re trying to reassure me that I’m not an old, decrepit mess who no one could love, but all you’re actually doing is convincing me that I need to dress the armour up as Mary Poppins for Halloween.”

Steve laughed. “Also a win. I do love you. So much. This afternoon was fun, but I’m glad to have my Tony back.”

Tony sighed, but smiled, then pulled Steve down into his arms. He pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Well, I guess that’s alright then…” he whispered. “As long as I’m your Tony.”


	23. Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve struggled as hard as he could, feeling a bone pop in his wrist as he twisted against the cuffs, but they shocked him with every movement, and, eventually, fighting against the endless jolts of electricity sent Steve limp in his attackers’ arms. “Don’t do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve Feels, Time Travel, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Panic, Fear, Pain.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> For Happy Steve Bingo!

Steve struggled as hard as he could, feeling a bone pop in his wrist as he twisted against the cuffs, but they shocked him with every movement, and, eventually, fighting against the endless jolts of electricity sent Steve limp in his attackers’ arms. “Don’t do this.” **  
**

Strucker sneered. “This seems to be the only way to get rid of you, Captain. You have some blessed life that stops me from killing you, but I don’t need you dead, I just need you gone. So…” Strucker stepped forward and the four HYDRA agents restraining Steve backed him towards the cryo chamber. “Have a good nap.”

“Fuck you,” Steve growled, struggling again, muscles clenching with each shock from the cuffs. He was drained, and the adrenaline that flushed through his veins was only serving to make him panic more, not giving him the strength to escape. He’d thought this base was mostly empty. If he’d known it was still in use, he would have called the rest of the team in. Steve squeezed his eyes shut as they pushed him in until his shoulders hit the back of the cryo tube. His heart was racing, breath coming in short gasps. He was going to lose everything again.

With a growl, Steve made another desperate attempt to surge forward but one of the HYDRA agents poked him hard in the side with an electric prod at the same moment the cuffs shocked him again, and he crumpled back. They slammed the door shut, and he was trapped.

“I think two hundred years ought to do it,” Strucker said.

Steve threw himself against the glass. He was desperate now, begging, sobbing, but he couldn’t summon any embarrassment. All he could think about was waking up with his whole life torn apart again. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. This would be the end of him. “No!” He slammed his shoulder against the glass, but it didn’t even wobble under the assault. They would come. They had to come for him. Someone had to come for him. A frustrated tear tracked down his cheek as Strucker reached for the controls. “Please,” Steve tried.

But Strucker just smiled and pushed the button.

**

Steve woke with a gasp, smashing his shoulder against the glass of the cryo tube. He panicked for a moment, disoriented, and then the tube opened and he tumbled out onto the floor. The tear that had frozen to his cheek finished its trail down to his jaw, and he reached to brush it away, but his arms were still cuffed behind his back. He ached from head to foot, mouth cottony, and brain muddled. The freezing seemed to have killed the shocker on the cuffs, and without that, Steve was able to brace his elbows against his sides and pull until the metal snapped and his arms released. He gasped as his shoulders protested the change, and he staggered backwards until he hit the cryo tube then stumbled to the floor. The serum pumped through his veins, healing the aches and pains, the wrench in his shoulder, and the cut across his cheek from his struggle with HYDRA.

With the throbbing pain abating, Steve was able to take in his surroundings. Two hundred years… that was what Strucker had set the chamber for, and no one was here to have let him out so it must - it must -

Steve choked as a tight band squeezed around his ribs. Two hundred years. He’d lost everything again.

The lab was dusty and decrepit. One wall had collapsed, machinery and supplies smashed across the floor among the brick dust. It looked like it had been partially destroyed and abandoned.

And of course, Steve hadn’t changed. The cryo preserved him even more perfectly than the ice had. Once again, the world had ticked on, and Steve was left behind. The back of his eyes prickled with heat, and Steve tried to suck in enough oxygen not to pass out as terror swirled through him and tried to drag him under the surface of a budding panic attack.

Everything was gone. The Avengers would be dead - either in battle, and without him there to help, or from old age. Maybe - maybe Thor would have survived. But the others, there was no way -

Tony.

Steve choked again and pressed both hands over his face. He knew he needed to move, find food and shelter, figure out what state the world was in, hopefully find his way back to whatever was left of his home, but the thought of Tony curled him into a ball against the cryo chamber and drew a hacking, breathless sob out of his chest.

Steve missed his chance. All those lingering glances and soft smiles, flirty banter and half-excused touches - they were all long lost. To Tony, Steve had disappeared, unresolved, maybe, eventually, forgotten. He hoped Tony had lived a good life, but for the second time, Steve couldn’t help but dig in to the sharp clawing pain that ripped at his chest when he wished  _why couldn’t it have been with me?_  There was so much he was willing to sacrifice to save his country, his world, but it was too much to ask this of him a second time.

He should have told Tony how he felt, risks be damned. He’d waited with Peggy, too long, and now he’d made the same mistake again. And this time, he never even got the chance to taste a kiss from Tony’s lips, not even once. The fissure in his heart that had healed over once creaked and cracked once more.

Steve choked on another dusty sob and wiped furiously at his eyes. He needed to move, his stomach was already growling painfully and no light leaked through the broken wall along with the cold, musty air. He was afraid to see what was out there - had HYDRA won? - but he needed to stand up and shake off his past and face this future.

His bones creaked as he stood, but the serum was doing its job, and he was only a little dizzy when he stumbled across the lab. The door was locked, but when he tugged hard, one foot braced against the wall, the mortar around the lock crumbled to dust and the door sprung open. An explosion sounded in the distance.

Steve pressed himself to the wall and made his way down the hall towards the sounds of battle. Another explosion rocked the foundation of the castle, and dust poured down from the ceiling. Steve dipped his eyes to the ground and blinked, keeping the showering of brick dust from falling in his eyes.

The distant hum of machinery steered him to the south. He couldn’t tell if the fight was inside the castle or out, but maybe there’d be a way to sneak out unseen in the chaos. Then the hum shifted, changed; it - it sounded like repulsors. Was Tony’s tech being used all over the world now?

Steve kept moving, but it was slow going. He was still weak from his fight with the HYDRA goons, the serum having enough to fight against that it was slow going, and he was tired to his bones, heavy from grief and fear.

Steve turned a corner and the wall exploded in front of him slamming him back against the bricks and momentarily stealing his breath. He staggered back to his feet, sucking dust in with his next shaky breath. His arm came up automatically in front of him, but he didn’t have the shield.

“Cap?”

Steve looked up as the air cleared and saw red and gold armour come into view. Oh god it was - but it couldn’t be. Someone else flew the armour now? Even with Tony surely gone over a hundred years ago, Iron Man still being alive was a small comfort. “What?” Steve gasped out, knowing he had questions to ask but not knowing which ones.

Iron Man stepped forward then fell to his knees in front of Steve, hands reached out to grab Steve’s shoulders, and Steve realized he’d slipped back down the wall to the floor. “Steve?”

“Do you - what year?” Steve managed.

“What? Are you okay?” Iron Man asked, the voice modulator making him sound painfully familiar.

“What year is it? How long - how long was I gone?”

“What?” Iron Man repeated, and then the faceplate popped open.

“Oh my god,  _Tony,”_  Steve reached for him, pulling him closer, scanning his face. Was it really him? “Tony is that you?”

“Yes, yeah of course it’s me. Steve? You’ve been gone for a week. We traced you here, along with Loki’s scepter and attacked the base. What happened?”

_A week_. Only a week. The attack on the base must have interrupted the power supply for the cryo chamber and it had switched off early, letting Steve out into a battlezone that felt like the future. His heart stuttered and skipped. He hadn’t lost two hundred years, just a week. “Oh god,” he cried, tugging Tony closer. And he kept tugging, drawing Tony in until their lips met then kissing him and kissing him, a hand on either side of his face, tucked into the helmet. “I love you.”

Tony kissed back until Steve managed to relax his hold and Tony put a few inches between them, concerned eyes scanning Steve’s face. “What happened?”

“They put me in cryo.” Now that he was talking, Steve could feel how parched his mouth and throat were, lined with dust. “Told me it was for two hundred years. I thought I’d lost you.”

“Oh, Steve,” Tony said softly. “I’m so sorry. But it’s okay. You didn’t lose us. Just a week, I promise.”

When Steve’s breath shook, Tony leaned in and reclaimed Steve’s mouth, kissing him with gentle reassurance then kissing away the tracks of tears that tickled their way down Steve’s cheeks. Tony followed them with his thumb.

“I’ll always find you,” Tony said. “I’ll never let them take you for two hundred years. Never. I love you too.”

“I don’t want to waste any more time,” Steve whispered, kissing Tony between each word.

“I don’t either. We were being stupid. I’m taking you home and never letting you go again, okay?”

“Okay.” Steve let Tony help him to his feet. Tony slipped a comm in his ear so Steve could hear as Tony let the others know Steve was okay, each familiar voice that chimed in sending a shudder of warm relief through Steve’s body.

When Steve’s feet threatened to give out under him, Tony hooked an arm around his waist and started leading the way out of the base and to the quinjet. “I’ve got you.”


	24. Peanuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You’ll know it when you see it, sweetheart,_ his mom had said to him, every time he’d asked what it was like. _It feels like coming home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate AU, Doctor!Tony, no powers, meet not-so-cute. (The medical stuff is at daytime drama levels of accuracy)
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> For Happy Steve Bingo.

Tony had given up on ever meeting his soulmate. It was probably around his fortieth birthday when he realized it wasn’t going to happen. Sure, some people found their soulmates in their eighties or even nineties, but Tony had been banking on something a little sooner. He wanted a family.

He’d tried to make it work, hooking up with other people who had given up the search, or had lost their mates, but it wasn’t the same. He didn’t know what it would feel like when he found his mate, but he did know this wasn’t it.

 _You’ll know it when you see it, sweetheart,_  his mom had said to him, every time he’d asked what it was like.  _It feels like coming home._

And he did. He knew it the second he looked up and locked eyes with the man he was destined to be with. He just didn’t expect it to happen in the emergency room of Mercy General at two in the morning on a Wednesday.

“He’s not breathing!” A blond man with hair wild, out of breath, and terrified, launched himself through the double doors of the ER. “My son’s not breathing. Please help me!”

Tony pushed the triage nurse out of the way and tripped across the floor, tugging his stethoscope from around his neck. The man held his boy out desperately towards him. The boy was three or four, barely conscious, a blue tinge to the edges of his lips. His chest heaved with the effort of trying to take unsuccessful breaths.

Tony found a pulse, guiding the man into the hall where he could lay the child down on a stretcher. “What happened?” He tipped the boys chin back and opened his mouth. A nurse joined him and started wheeling them towards an exam room, handing Tony an oxygen mask to fit over the kid’s face.

“I put him to bed,” the man gasped, hands opening and closing pitifully at his sides. “I was up late working and - and I heard a noise so I went to his room. I - I think he was eating his halloween candy instead of sleeping. There were wrappers on his floor. But - but -”

There was nothing lodged in his throat. “Is he allergic to anything?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so - maybe. We don’t have candy in the house so this is his first time eating a lot of it.” The man’s breath stuttered and started, and Tony shot him a concerned look. The last thing he needed was both of them out. But the man squared his jaw and took a deep breath instead of breaking down. Tony turned back to the boy.

“Peanuts?”

“I’m trying to think. He might never have had any. He hates the smell of peanut butter so I can’t think when he would have - but maybe with the chocolate -”

“Okay. Step back.” Tony already had his hand in the drawer, pulling out a shot of epinephrine. He pulled the boys pajama pants down and stabbed it in his thigh, ignoring the whimper of sympathetic pain from his father. A nurse had already hooked up a monitor and put in a line, so Tony waited, watching the O2 stats and praying they’d go up. The kid was borderline right now, getting just enough oxygen from the mask that they could afford to wait and let the epi do its thing.

When the boy finally drew in a gasping breath, they all let out one of their own.

“Oh my god,” the man whimpered, tipping forward to take his son’s hand in his. “Shit, Peter.” He sunk down into the chair next to the bed and pressed his forehead down against the boy’s side.

Tony set up some bags on the drip, ordering the nurses to get him antihistamines and corticosteroids. He turned to go, taking the chart to hand it off to one of the ER doctors, when the man called after him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. He’ll be alright. I’m heading out so I’m going to hand this off to Dr. Cho. She’s amazing. She’ll take good care of you.”

“Okay. Thank you so much. I -” He swallowed and looked back down at his kid. “Thank you.’

Tony dropped a hand to his shoulder and squeezed lightly as he walked out, leaving the man and his kid in the capable hands of the ER nurses.

He paused outside the window and couldn’t help watching for a moment. This man - he didn’t even know his name. He looked at the chart a nurse had hurriedly scratched out, flipping to the second page. Steve Rogers.

_Steve._

Steve was his soulmate. Tony had felt it the second their eyes had met. Surety had surged through him, pulling an intense wave of affection and longing with it. But it hadn’t been the time, with the boy’s life at risk, and now Steve needed to be alone with his son.

Tony resisted the urge to lean up against the glass. He felt drawn to Steve like a magnet. But either Steve hadn’t felt it, or with the pain and fear for his son, it had been drowned out. What if that moment of first contact was their only chance to bond and they’d missed it? Tony had never heard of soulmates missing their chance, but, he supposed, if they didn’t know they had, how would anyone ever talk about it?

And what would be the point anyway? Steve already had a family, clearly hadn’t been waiting for Tony to show up. All he’d be doing would be interrupting, breaking up happiness, making things awkward for everyone. Maybe it was all for the best that he knew and Steve didn’t. He’d leave him to his happy family.

Tony took one last look then dropped the chart in the bucket by the door and stepped away, typing out a message to Dr. Cho admitting he’d stolen another ER patient.

At least now he knew he had a soulmate; he could stop waiting, small comfort that it was.

**

Four days later, Tony sat at his desk, squinting at a medical journal and wondering when they were going to stop publishing the whacked-out shit that Dr. Hammer kept sending them.

Katie knocked on the door. "Three o'clock is here, Dr. Stark,” she said as she passed by.

Tony frowned after her, down the hallway. He didn’t have a three o'clock.

Not wanting to waste time starting up his computer to check the schedule, Tony made his way down the hall to his exam room, and knocked before opening the door.

“Oh.”

Steve sat on the exam table, crinkling the paper under him and looking abashed. “Hi.”

“Hey, Stev- Mr. Rogers. How’s Peter?”

“He’s great. We’ve filled the whole house with epi-pens and he’s thrilled about outlawing peanut butter.” Steve smiled, and Tony’s heart started to pound. “You’re not easy to find, you know. I went back to the hospital a few times, but it wasn’t until I talked to one of the nurses that I figured out you’re not an ER doctor at all. You’re a specialist who happened to be passing through.”

Tony shrugged and sat on his stool, swinging back and forth a bit. “I couldn’t just leave you there to be triaged. We’re overloaded as it is.”

“I thought they frowned on that sort of thing.”

Tony grinned. “I have very expensive malpractice insurance, but I’m totally worth it.”

Steve’s lips twitched up into a small smile. “I bet you are…”

“Uh…” Tony blinked at him.

“Okay, I just have to ask -” Steve took a deep breath. “Did you feel it too?”

“Did I - ? Yes.” Tony shuffled half off his stool. “I thought maybe you didn’t. You were so scared and everything…”

“No, I did. I just couldn’t deal with it at the time. I had to, you know, set it aside. For him.”

Tony waved off the almost-apology. “No, no. Of course. I understand.” He swallowed. “And - uh - you know, I don’t want to - I mean. You have Peter. And, uh… Peter’s mom…? So?”

Steve’s smile twisted sad. “She died. Shortly after he was born.”

“Oh. Oh shit, I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. We were - I mean we loved each other, but we weren’t soulmates. We knew. Um. I think… she hoped, once she realized how sick she was… that I would -” He cleared his throat.

“Find… me?” Tony offered.

“Yes,” Steve breathed, leaning so far forward on the table that it squeaked and the paper tore under him.

“I never thought I would,” Tony said. “Find you, that is. Wow.” He stood and Steve did too, stumbling forward a step. “And you’ve got a kid and - wow.”

“Is that okay?” Steve twisted his fingers together. “Most people aren’t that into a single dad.”

“Okay? Are you kidding? This is -” The back of Tony’s eyes prickled, and he let out a tense breath. “This is really all I’ve ever wanted. Family. If you’re willing to let me share yours.”

Steve opened his arms, and Tony tipped into them, nearly bursting with how right, and solid and perfect and wonderful it felt. “It’s already yours too, Tony, we were just waiting to find you. I knew we would, someday.” He buried his face in Tony’s neck. “I was just waiting for you…”

They held each other for a long time, basking in the happy glow of their bond, but when tears threatened the back of Tony’s eyes again, he pulled back with a sniff. “Uh… I’ve got another two hours of work to get through,” he said, clearing his throat. He gestured towards his face, no doubt pink and blotchy already, and Steve laughed.

“Right, of course. Sorry. I know I shouldn’t have come and bothered you at work, but I didn’t know how else to get a minute alone with you.”

“No, no. Don’t be sorry. I’m so glad you came. So glad.” Tony reached out and twined his fingers with Steve’s, thrilling when Steve held on, squeezing Tony’s hand. “You really want me? I leave dirty towels on the floor.”

“You and Peter both,” Steve replied with a smile.

“Though, I suppose,” Tony went on, “having a doctor around could be useful when you have a kid with a serious allergy.”

Steve nodded, then stepped forward again. He cupped Tony’s face with his hands and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “That’s true, but that’s not why I want you. I want you because you’re mine, the other half of me. I want you because I’ve been waiting for you for a long time. I want you for the you I’m so excited to get to know. I want you.”

Tony fiddled with the buttons on Steve’s shirt. “Is Peter going to be okay with this? I mean, he lost his mom and now some stranger is showing up, changing everything and monopolizing his dad’s time, and what if he hates me, I -”

“Tony.”

“Yes?”

“Stop worrying and kiss me.”

“Oh. Okay.” Tony rocked forward and their lips met.

And his mom had been right. It felt exactly like coming home.


	25. Once Upon a Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, a very bad man wanted Tony Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Outsider POV, Crack, Very Silly, Romance, Fairy Tale Style.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> For Happy Steve Bingo.

Once upon a time, a very bad man wanted Tony Stark.

But he didn’t want him for a bad reason. He was in love with the iron-clad engineer. The way his suit of armour worked, the amazing weapons he built, and his devotion to his inventions - the bad man loved them all. He was determined to make Tony his, no matter what it took.

The bad man wanted to court Tony, show him how much he cared for him, but he wasn’t sure how. He searched the internet high and low and decided to send Tony a present to show him his regard.

At the tower, Tony Stark arrived home from a long day in board meetings and conference calls and went down to his workshop to find a box sitting on his desk. The box was wrapped in shiny paper with a huge bow on top. “JARVIS, where did this come from?” Tony asked.

“It was sent by a private courier,” the AI replied, and Tony was curious.

The bow came off, followed by the paper, and Tony pulled a smaller box out of the bigger box. He snapped the box open and found a shiny, gold watch inside. It was a beautiful watch, ornately decorated with little stars picked out in silver and twinkling precious gems. Tony turned the watch back and forth in his hands, admiring the pretty surface. The stars made him think of someone - someone he thought of often.

Tony turned the box this way and that, dug through the paper, and ruffled through the bow’s elaborate curls, but there was no note, no card. Who was the fancy watch from?

Later that day, the door to the workshop opened, and in walked the man with a star on his chest. He greeted Tony softly, then asked what he was looking at.

Tony picked up the watch. “Someone sent this to me, and I don’t know who.”

The man with the star, Steve, watched Tony’s graceful fingers pop the watch box open and flash it in the light. “It’s very beautiful,” he said.

As Tony turned the watch in his hands, something occurred to him. The watch should be with the man it reminded him of. Then, maybe, it would make him think of Tony the way Tony thought of him. “You should have it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t!” said Steve, wishing desperately that he could. The watch was beautiful, and it meant a great deal that Tony would want him to have it. But it was so expensive! So fancy! What a gift to give a friend. “It’s too much.”

“It isn’t,” Tony insisted. “It’s just right.” And he reached out and took Steve’s hand. He uncurled Steve’s fingers, lay the watch in his hold, then folded them closed again. “Please take it. I like the thought of you having it.” Steve’s skin gave off a tiny spark as they brushed fingers and Tony felt it zigzag like a lightning bolt down to his heart, stealing one of its beats.

“Thank you, Tony.” Steve gazed at Tony, unable to look away from his beautiful face. He would cherish the watch forever. And perhaps… maybe? It might have meant something more than friendship.

Up in the tallest tower, on the farthest island, under a dark storm cloud, the very bad man was very angry.

He shouted and stomped and threw every plate from his cupboard on the floor until they were all smashed. Up on his screen, his secret cameras were supposed to show Tony admiring the watch, putting it on, hoping to find the one who’d sent it and thank them. But instead, he’d given the watch away, without even wrapping it around his wrist. The nerve!

The very bad man was angry for a long time, but once all the plates were in pieces on the floor and he grew tired, he sat down, drank his tea, and vowed that his next plan wouldn’t go so awry…

**

_Ding dong!_

Tony startled up. “What was that?” he demanded. JARVIS had never made that sound before.

“There is someone at the door downstairs, sir,” the AI helpfully informed him. “I was trying something new.”

Tony rolled his eyes and made his way to the elevator. He didn’t know who could be at the door that JARVIS couldn’t take care of himself. When he reached the downstairs delivery door, Tony pulled it open only to be met with quite a sight. A man in the fanciest clothes imaginable stood with a gold platter in hand. On the platter was a crisp white envelope with Tony picked out in shiny, silver pen. The man raised a tiny trumpet to his lips and played a few notes.

“For you, sir,” he said, bending into a bow and extending the platter to Tony.

Tony eyed the envelope. “What could this be?” He lifted it, turning it over in his hands. It was a bit suspicious, rather unusual, to have something sent to the tower in that manner, but Tony didn’t find any reason to fear. He tore the envelope open and inside was a ticket, decorated with swirls of red and gold, for the opera,  _Carmen_ , one of Tony’s favourites. The show was in two nights.  _What a lovely gift,_  Tony thought. He would very much enjoy the show. “Who is this from?”

The man tucked his platter under his arm and shook his head. “My apologies, sir, but I’ve been asked not to say. It’s a gift,” he explained, “from a secret admirer!” His eyes danced with amusement and Tony found himself intrigued.

He laughed and clapped the man on the shoulder. “Thank you. Your performance was delightful. I guess I’ll just have to wait and see who it was from. I hope they make themselves known to me soon. I’d very much like to thank them.”

The delivery man left with his platter and his trumpet, and Tony returned to his apartment, excited about the show in two days time.

Upstairs, he found someone he had not expected sitting on his couch. “Steve!”

Steve turned, surprised, when he heard his name, and jumped to his feet. Tony’s smile was infectious, and it wasn’t long until he was smiling too.

“You’ll never believe what happened,” Tony said. “I was just giving a ticket to  _Carmen_  two days from now. It’s such a good show.”

“Oh, how nice.” Steve’s stomach was all in knots just from being around Tony. “I’ve never been to the opera.”

"Never been to the opera? That’s a crime. You have to come with me!”

Steve protested, desperate to go but not wanting to ruin Tony’s evening, until Tony picked up his phone and called to order another ticket. To their delight, they were able to get the seat beside Tony’s so they could sit together and watch the show. It was sure to be a wonderful evening.

Two days later, the very bad man was dressed from head to toe in his finest clothes. Tonight was the night he would finally have his date with Tony Stark. He had the ticket for the seat beside Tony, and after a full night of wonderful opera, he would admit that he was the gift-giver and Tony would be so grateful they’d go out for coffee after and Tony would fall in love with him. It was the perfect plan.

The very bad man arrived early, settled in his seat and waiting. And before long - there! Tony appeared, looking stunning in a perfectly fitted suit. But a moment later, the bad man wanted to scream. Tony had brought a date of his own! Captain America, no less! How dare he.

Even worse, as Tony and his date slid into their seats, they swapped places, without realizing, so it was Steve seated next to the bad man and Tony on the other side.

The bad man had never been so enraged! He spent the entire show staring at the side of Steve’s head, thinking of the ways he could get rid of him - drop him in a volcano or built a robot to shoot him with lasers.

When the show ended,  Tony and Steve dipped their heads close together, sharing their excited reviews, and the very bad man stomped off, tripping an usher on his way out.

Why wouldn’t anything go to plan?!

**

The very bad man thought and thought and finally he came up with a plan.

He would just have to go to Tony himself and explain why they should be together. This plan was failsafe! He put on his best suit, combed his hair and brushed his teeth, then admired himself in the mirror. Perfect.

The very bad man had a very bad robot and he used it to fly across the city to his love. One look at him and Tony would realize how in love he was and then, finally, they would be together.

When the bad man arrived at the tower, he found the door locked. That wouldn’t do at all. He used his robot to pick the lock and bypass the AI that didn’t want to let him in. It just didn’t understand that this was about true love! The bad man wouldn’t let anything stand in his way.

He found his way to Tony’s lab and burst through the door. “Tony Stark -!” he started, but before he could finish, the Avengers came flying down the hall and collided with him. No! They didn’t understand.

The bad man tried to explain - he was merely here to collect the love of his life - but the Avengers wouldn’t listen and he had to fight back. The bad man pushed them away over and over getting more and more upset when they refused to back off and let him have what was rightfully his.

Finally, frustrated and exhausted, the bad man got one more hit in, knocking Captain America to his knees, then fled. He burst out of the tower and flew all the way home. It wasn’t fair! The Avengers were keeping him and Tony apart. But Tony had to love him back; they just didn’t understand.

The bad man nursed his wounds in dark solitude, thinking about how much better his life would be with Tony at his side. When he could stand it no longer, he turned on the secret cameras he’d hidden in the tower.

And there was his love, Tony, sitting on the couch of the workshop in the dim light of evening. But he wasn’t pining over his lost chances, instead he was sitting next to Steve Rogers! Argh!

Steve had his hand in Tony’s lap - and oh, the audacity! When the bad man looked closer, he saw that Tony was holding Steve’s hand, carefully wrapping gauze around bloodied and battered knuckles.

The bad man looked down at his own bruised hands. Why couldn’t Tony be doing that for him?

In the tower, Tony and Steve whispered to each lowly, sitting close together. Steve winced as Tony treated his wounds, but Tony’s fingers on his skin made the pain worth it. “Thank you,” he said, when Tony was finished.

Tony didn’t let go of his hand. “You’re welcome.”

**

“This won’t do at all!” cried the bad man. If gifts wouldn’t work, and talking wouldn’t work, he was going to have to turn to magic. It was clear that Tony loved him back, he just wouldn’t admit it, so the bad man needed to give him a little push.

The bad man had a huge cupboard at the end of a long hallway, with tall shelves. And every shelf was full of different magical potions. He walked along the shelf, reading each label with a “no, no, no,” until he came to the right one. “Ah, yes!” He clapped his hands together. “Fall In Love. Just what I need.” After drinking this, Tony wouldn’t be able to disguise how he felt anymore.

The bad man put together a basket, with fancy chocolate. He wrapped a new label around the potion label to make it look like a fancy, exotic drink, then tucked it in among the food. Perfect. He sent the basket to the tower with “Tony” written on the card in ornate gold lettering.

Tony wasn’t surprised when the basket arrived. There was always someone trying to court his business, earn his attention, from small startups to huge international corporations. They loved to send fancy gifts and food - though there had been more than usual lately. Something interesting must have been happening in the stock market, he supposed.

So he thought nothing of opening the basket and taking a bite of a luscious chocolate bar. It was so good, he couldn’t bear to keep it all for himself. Tony picked up the basket and carried it upstairs to where his teammates were gathered in the living room.

“A gift!” he announced. “For all of us.” He tore the tag off and tucked it in his pocket.

“Ooh!” they chimed, descending on the basket.

Everyone took a treat - cookies or candy or chocolate - and Tony watched, helplessly charmed, as Steve wrapped his lips around a bottle of bright purple soda and took a sip. “Delicious,” Steve said, turning his smile to Tony.

Together, they ate everything in the basket, leaving a trail of packaging and a pile of happy, full Avengers covering the room. Thor stood first, collecting the wrappers and tossing them back in the empty basket.

“You don’t have to do that, Thor,” Natasha said. “We’ll all help.”

“I don’t mind.” Thor made his way around the room. He lifted the glass bottle from Steve’s drink. The label was peeling a little and underneath he could see a second label - the real label. He tugged the fake label off and read what was underneath.  _“Fall In Love: This potion will amplify all feelings of affection the drinker has until they are so in love, they won’t be able to hide it anymore.”_

Thor looked across the room to where Tony and Steve were sprawled on the couch. Steve was gazing at Tony the same way he always did, chin resting on his arm, nodding along while Tony described his latest project in detail. “Steve?” Thor asked, breaking into the conversation. “Do you feel alright?”

Steve tilted his head with curiosity. “What do you mean?”

Thor held up the bottle. “This soda had - uh - an unusual fruit in it, from another world. Just wanted to make sure it wasn’t distressing your digestion. You feel the same as always?”

Steve nodded, turning back to Tony, and earning a smile. “I feel exactly the same as always,” he said, sighing softly. “Perfectly normal.”

Thor grinned and tossed the bottle in the garbage.

They would figure it out in time.

**

“That’s it!” the bad man cried. “I’m done!” He couldn’t remember ever being so angry before. He wanted Tony Stark, but Tony just wouldn’t notice him. He had one last thing left to try: if Tony were in mortal peril, and the bad man saved him, surely he’d have to notice him. He’d have to give him a chance.

The bad man hauled out a very heavy book full of very dark spells and started a chant. After a few minutes, a demon appeared in the middle of the room and snarled at him.

“I need a spell cast,” the very bad man said.

“Okay,” said the demon,“ but then we’re even!”

“Deal.”

The demon shimmered with magic, and a moment later it stilled and nodded. “I’ve cast your spell. You’d better not call me again!” And with a poof it was gone.

The bad man immediately set off for the place he knew Tony would be: at the top of the tallest tower, in his penthouse apartment.

The bad man flew up very high and snuck in through a window, as quiet as a mouse. He found Tony’s bedroom and there he was, deep in a magical sleep, arms folded graceful over his stomach, chest rising and falling evenly. Only True Love’s Kiss would wake him. And that was exactly what the bad man had to offer.

He straightened his clothes and walked across the room then settled on his knees beside the bed. This was it - he’d finally have the love of his life all to himself!

The bad man leaned over, smoothed Tony’s hair back, then pressed their lips together.

Nothing.

He frowned. Then leaned in and tried again.

Still nothing.

“What!” he cried, pounding his fist on the floor. “How?!” He was tired, angry, and so, so sad. He loved Tony, so how could this not be True Love’s Kiss? He sat there for a long time, watching Tony’s magical sleep remain undisturbed. Then he turned and, dragging his feet, left the bedroom.

Magic didn’t lie. If he and Tony weren’t meant to be together, well, there wasn’t anything he could do about that. He’d have to go home and find a way to get over him.

Heartbroken, the bad man flew away.

An hour later, a soft knock on the penthouse door failed to rouse the sleeping Tony. Steve knocked again, louder. Still nothing. He called out, “Tony?” then pushed the door open. They’d had an agreement to spar in the gym, but Tony hadn’t shown.

Steve searched the apartment, but it seemed Tony wasn’t here. Then he saw the light spilling out of the bedroom door. “Tony?” he tried again, pushing the door open. And there was Tony, laid out on his bed. He was unnaturally still, not curled in a ball like Tony normally slept, but sprawled out on his back, arms folded over his stomach. “Tony!”

Steve ran across the room and fell to his knees beside him. He found Tony’s breath his pulse, and both were normal, but he wouldn’t wake. Steve yelled, he shook him gently. He tried everything, but Tony wouldn’t wake.

A single tear tracked over Steve’s cheek. What if Tony never woke?

“Tony, please wake up,” he begged. Unable to bear the pain any longer, Steve leaned forward and pressed his lips softly against Tony’s forehead.

Tony’s eyes sprung open and he sat up with a gasp, lurching into Steve’s arms. Steve cried out and held him close, sobbing with relief.

“You saved me,” Tony whispered, holding Steve close. And he kissed him, so full of love it almost hurt. Steve kissed him back, and he was never going to let Tony go.

The End.

Or is it?

Back at the very bad man’s lair, he kicked off his boots and pouted his way down to to his secret lab. His heart was broken. How could it be that Tony wasn’t his One True Love? He’d tried everything, but it seemed that it was not meant to be.

The bad man slumped down in his chair, ready to eat an entire pint of ice cream, but when he turned in his seat, he saw something on his desk. It was a box, wrapped in shiny, red paper, and on top was a big, fancy bow.

What could it be?

The bad man lifted the box and turned it this way and that. It was heavy, and pretty, and brought a smile to his face. There was a small card tied to the underside of the bow. He turned it over.

_For: My love  
From: A secret admirer_


	26. An Arrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony bounced on his toes, his stiff leather shoes creaking from disuse. He tugged his cuffs down to his wrists for the seven hundredth time. He could hear the murmur of voices from the other room; his entire family was gathered in the hall - aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents - and Tony felt the pressure of several generations resting heavily on his shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arranged Marriage, Young Tony, Older Steve, Captain Rogers, Pre-Wedding Jitters, Meeting for the First Time.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> Thanks to sabrecmc whose Celestial Navigation is always an inspiration with these sorts of stories! <3 For Happy Steve Bingo.

Tony bounced on his toes, his stiff leather shoes creaking from disuse. He tugged his cuffs down to his wrists for the seven hundredth time. He could hear the murmur of voices from the other room; his entire family was gathered in the hall - aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents - and Tony felt the pressure of several generations resting heavily on his shoulders. **  
**

But that was nothing to the nervousness he felt waiting for the door at the other end of the room to open.

Tony fiddled with his cufflinks again. They were tiny circles of bright blue sapphire, encased in a web of white gold. A gift from his mother. He had a matching pair in a case that was currently digging into his thigh, the hard corners ruining the line of his pants. He tugged the case out, opened it, then closed it again and put it back in his pocket.

Where was he? Captain Rogers - that was all Tony knew about him, really, his name - was supposed to arrive ten minutes ago, and surely the first thing he’d want to do was meet Tony, right? Maybe he didn’t care. Maybe this was just a marriage of convenience and he wouldn’t be at all interested in Tony.

That could be nice, better than if he was cruel or abusive, but Tony had always dreamed of having a husband who loved him, a partner. He knew lots of couples who loved each other, even if his parents didn’t always seem like the prime example. Tony was ready to love him, whoever he was.

He tugged the case out and opened it again. What if Captain Rogers preferred yellow gold? Or didn’t like sapphires?

A soft knock on the door startled Tony’s back ramrod straight, and he shoved the case back in his pocket, breath evaporating out of his lungs. A moment later, when he hadn’t managed to say anything, the door creaked open and a face peered around it. “Hi?” the man said.

“Hi,” Tony managed, and the rest of the man appeared.

He was fucking gorgeous.

Tall, blond, and broad-shouldered, the man - Captain Rogers, he hoped - was dressed in his dress blues, the buttons shiny and the creases razor straight. He had a kind smile that tweaked up one side of his mouth higher than the others, and a hesitancy that made Tony breathe out a relieved breath.

“Tony?” he asked.

Tony nodded. “Cap - Captain Rogers?” He cleared his throat.

“Steve, please. You can call me Steve. Is it alright if I call you Tony?”

“Of course.”

Steve came fully in the room and shut the door softly behind him. He raked his eyes over Tony and his smile deepened. Tony hoped that meant he liked what he saw. “Oh!” Steve took two hesitant steps across the room and held out a plastic case with a vivid red flower in it. Steve had a matching flower pinned to his chest, next to the somewhat overwhelming array of medals he wore. “This is for you.”

“Thank you.” Tony took the case then fumbled out his own. “Uh - here.” He was supposed to say something nice here, something grateful, thanking Captain Rogers for taking him, but he couldn’t remember the speech his mom had made him practice over and over in front of the mirror. “I can’t remember what I’m supposed to say,” he admitted, then frowned when he realized that was probably worse than saying nothing.

But Steve laughed, creases crinkling the corners of his eyes. “It’s fine. I’m not much for ceremony, anyway. Thank you, Tony.” He gestured towards the small stage at the back of the room, unused chair piled up on it. “Want to sit for a minute?”

“Do we have time?”

Steve twinkled. “They can’t very well start without us.”

Tony ducked his head as he grinned. “Fair enough.” He hopped up on the edge of the stage, and Steve sat beside him, a careful foot between them.

Steve popped open the case and his eyebrows shot up. “Wow. These are beautiful. Thank you.”

“I can - uh -” Tony gestured towards him, and Steve held out his wrists. He’d left his cuffs unbuttoned in anticipation of Tony’s gift. Tony focused on pinning the two halves of the sleeve together, sucking his tongue back in when he realized it had popped out from between his teeth. When he was finished, he looked back up and Steve was gazing at him. His eyes were blue. Incredibly blue.

Steve reached across Tony and lifted the flower case. He popped the top off. “May I?” Tony nodded, and Steve threaded the flower through his buttonhole then pinned it in place.

There was a moment of somewhat tense silence as they both considered each other. It was hard to believe that this was the man Tony would be tied to forever.

“Your dad said you’re twenty-one?” Steve asked.

“Yes.”

“And you’re already done school?”

“Yeah. I went back actually, for a few more degrees, just for fun.” Tony winced - bragging: not good.

But Steve sounded entirely sincere when he said, “Wow. That’s incredible. You’re so smart. I - uh - I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep up with you.”

“What? Me? Oh no. That’s not going to be our problem.”

Steve’s brow creased. “No?” He chuckled. “What’s going to be our problem?”

“I’m awful. I mean, that’s what everyone says. Rightfully so! I’m loud and I babble and I don’t make any sense and I talk out of turn and I can never remember what I’m supposed to say or where I’m supposed to sit or what fork I’m supposed to use.”

Steve was still smiling. “I can never remember what fork I’m supposed to use either. Let’s eat all of dinner tonight with just our dessert spoons.”

Tony snorted out a panicky laugh. “Honestly, I’m kind of a mess. I know I’m supposed to be pitching myself at this point, but I don’t want you to suffer from buyers remorse, and I'm… kind of a lot.”

Steve’s expression softened, something far away and a little sad filling his eyes. “I think a lot is exactly what I need. I’m not always easy to live with either, Tony. But I really want to make this work. It means a lot to me that you agreed to this.”

“Well, I didn’t have much of a choice,” stumbled out of his mouth before he could stop it, and Tony smacked his hand over it to stop anymore insults from tripping out.

Steve stiffened. “Do you - do you not want to get married? Your parents said you agreed, but if you’re being forced to -”

“No!” Tony grabbed at his sleeve even though Steve had shown no signs of leaving. “No. I mean, I’ll admit I wasn’t super thrilled about the idea at first, but I  _need_  to get out of my parents house.” He winced again. “Shit, that doesn’t sound any better. I want to get married, Steve, honest. It’s scary, agreeing to something when you don’t know the other person, when your parents have arranged it all. Because I really  _want_  to get married but my parents don’t really get me. So I was afraid they’d pick someone like them instead of like me. And I wanted my partner to… well… like me. So, uh, if you think maybe someday you can learn to like me….”

Steve covered Tony’s hand with his own where it still rested on his sleeve. “I already like you, Tony. A lot.”

“You barely know me,” Tony mumbled. And this was  _not_ how he’d been told to behave when meeting his future husband for the first time, but there was no going back now.

“You - uh - ” Steve smirked and his cheeks pinked. “You kind of come in hot. I think I do know you, a little bit. And what I’ve seen I really like. You’ll have a lot of freedom with me, Tony. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to. You’ll have your own room and your own space. You can go to school again, or get a job, or whatever you want. All I want is for us to be friends. Anything more would be icing on the cake. I'm… I can get lonely. I just don’t want to be alone anymore, whatever that means. I wouldn’t ask anything else of you, promise.” His eyes danced again. “And I’ll make sure there’s only ever one fork at our dinners.”

Tony burst out laughing, his fingers tightening on Steve’s sleeve, and Steve’s fingers curled closer around them. “Okay. Yeah, okay, that sounds really good.”

“You’re sure? I can delay this.”

Tony shook his head. “They’ll think you don’t want me,” he said in a small voice. “No matter what you say, my parents will think I fuc- screwed it up and you don’t want me.”

“I want you,” Steve said firmly.

Tony smiled. He dropped his fingers down to Steve’s cuff and toyed with the blue gem that matched his own. “Okay, good.”

The sound of a string quartet warming up broke the soft, small bubble that had wrapped around them. “I think they’re ready for us,” Steve said. “But if there’s anything else you’re worried about, I’ll make them wait until you’re one hundred percent sure you want to go out there.”

Tony squirmed where he sat. “There's… there’s one thing I’m worried about,” he admitted.

“What is it?” Steve’s bright blue eyes didn’t drift from Tony’s.

“Um. I’ve never - I’ve never kissed anyone. And we have to kiss in front of something like two hundred people. And I think I’m going to fuc- er - screw it up.”

Steve laughed. He reached out and, moving slowly and carefully, curled his hand over Tony’s again. “You’re not going to fuck it up,” he whispered conspiratorially. “But we can practice if you want.”

“Okay,” Tony breathed. It was barely a word.

Steve leaned in slowly, his eyes flicking down to Tony’s lips. Tony could feel the warmth of his closeness, and he found himself a bit dazzled by his - his everything. Tony sucked in a breath and parted his lips and Steve gently pressed against them. His mouth was warm and soft, his bottom lip slotting between Tony’s. Steve’s nose touched Tony’s cheek as he tipped his chin down to deepen the kiss, still chaste, but with a tiny nip of potential future spice that left Tony gasping when he pulled away.

“Ready?” Steve asked, breathlessly.

Tony nodded. At this point, he was pretty sure he’d follow this man anywhere, was excited to start.

Steve stood and held out a hand. “Okay, Tony. Marry me?”

Tony took it. “It’d be my pleasure.”


	27. Eviction Notice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony snuggled closer, teeth chattering, and Steve ran his hand up through the back of Tony’s hair, guiding his face into the crook of his neck. Tony’s nose touched Steve’s skin and he bit back a yelp.
> 
> “I’m so sorry,” Tony said for the hundredth time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, established relationship, humour, cuddling for warmth.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> For Happy Steve Bingo

Tony snuggled closer, teeth chattering, and Steve ran his hand up through the back of Tony’s hair, guiding his face into the crook of his neck. Tony’s nose touched Steve’s skin and he bit back a yelp.

“I’m so sorry,” Tony said for the hundredth time.

“It’s fine, Tony. It’s not your fault.” Steve buried a kiss in Tony’s hair. It was getting a bit sweaty for him inside the too-small-for-two-people sleeping bag, but Tony was clearly still freezing, so Steve snuggled him as closely as he could and tried to radiate more heat.

“This was supposed to be a romantic, winter, cabin getaway.”

“I know.”

“And really, I guess it is. For the owls. They’re having a great time.”

“It’s pitch black out and freezing, Tony. We can’t do anything about the owls tonight.”

Tony huffed. “I am very, very aware of how freezing it is, Steve. I’m calling an owlologist and an eviction lawyer tomorrow, first thing in the morning, and we’re getting those damn birds out of the chimney. I’m not eating cold, canned ravioli again. And I was hoping that I’d be using your naked body for more than huddling for warmth this weekend.”

Steve slipped his leg between Tony’s and stroked his fingers up the back of his hair again. “Oh yeah?” he hummed. “I’ve got some plans of my own, mister.” He grinned when Tony’s hips rocked forward a little. “Also, I’m pretty sure they’re called ornithologists, not owlologists.”

“They can call themselves sprinkle-covered doughnuts for all I care. I’m paying an obscene amount of money for one to come tomorrow and find a new home for the Hooters.”

“Alright.” Steve made sure the sleeping bag was tugged tight around their necks. “Are you warming up?”

“Yeah.” Tony’s muscles had started to relax and his teeth had stopped chattering. “You’re a fucking furnace, Rogers.”

“Good thing.”

“Everything about you is a good thing.”

Steve wriggled his way down to press a messy kiss to Tony’s lips. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Tony kissed him again. He sighed. “Happy anniversary.”

“Happy anniversary.” Steve finally got his legs twisted around Tony’s in a comfortable way and he tipped his head back onto the pillow and closed his eyes. Tony, finally breathing deeply, stayed sprawled across his chest. “Hey, Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“The baby owls are pretty cute though, aren’t they?”

“Evicted. Immediately.” Tony poked him the side, and Steve laughed. They fell silent for a moment, and Steve thought Tony had fallen asleep until a soft kiss pressed to his collarbone. “Yeah,” Tony whispered in the dark. “They’re pretty damn cute.”


	28. Snowball Fight (WinterIron)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve snuggled down deeper in his squishy armchair, tugging the polar fleece blanket back in place when it slipped off his feet. A fire crackled in the fireplace at his side, warming him from tip to toe, and outside the window, Steve could see nothing but a vast field of white, ending with white-topped evergreen trees that lined the lane to the compound.
> 
> At least, that was all he could see, until now, when two figures came bursting out of the big bay doors and started stomping through the pristine snow. Steve set his book aside and leaned back in his chair to watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WinterIron, Tony/Bucky, Outsider POV, Steve POV, Fluff, Happy, Steve Loves His Friends.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> For Happy Steve Bingo.

Steve snuggled down deeper in his squishy armchair, tugging the polar fleece blanket back in place when it slipped off his feet. A fire crackled in the fireplace at his side, warming him from tip to toe, and outside the window, Steve could see nothing but a vast field of white, ending with white-topped evergreen trees that lined the lane to the compound.

At least, that was all he  _could_  see, until now, when two figures came bursting out of the big bay doors and started stomping through the pristine snow. Steve set his book aside and leaned back in his chair to watch.

Tony and Bucky’s relationship hadn’t been simple or straightforward, but after all living together at the compound for the past three years, Steve had seen a shift. Antagonism turned to begrudging acceptance, turned to friendly affection, and finally, now… well, Steve had his suspicions.

It was also clear that neither man was aware that the new feelings they were harbouring were reciprocated, but they needed to figure that out for themselves. Steve tucked his legs up on the chair, twisting around to press the side of his face to the leather wing, eyes fixed on his two best friends.

It had been hard, at first, to deal with their discomfort around each other, and then hard again, later, when they drifted into fast friends and Steve couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous. But happiness for their happiness overwhelmed that quickly, and both men made a clear effort to make sure Steve didn’t feel left behind. After the awkward transition period, it became all about watching the soap opera unfold and wondering if and when they were finally going to figure their shit out.

They were both notoriously bad at figuring their shit out.

Outside, Bucky gestured wildly back towards the compound and Tony stopped, turning around. He spread his arms wide, a classic “Tony defending his point” stance, and Steve chuckled. He had no idea what they were doing outside, but it looked like they were heading somewhere. Either that, or they’d gotten into one of their ridiculously overheated, tension-filled arguments and had gone out into the snow to literally cool off.

But then Tony pointed one way, towards the auxiliary garage, and Bucky pointed the other, throwing his hands in the air when Tony crossed his arms and shook his head. Tony turned away, marching through the snow towards the garage, and Steve watched as Bucky stared after him for a moment then reached down and packed a ball of snow into his metal palm. He shaped it then lined up, sniper’s eyes going narrow and focused, and then he let fly.

The snowball slammed into the side of Tony’s head with perfect accuracy, and Tony threw his hands up over his head and stumbled sideways into the snow. He came up spluttering, scraping snow out of his jacket collar. He started yelling across the yard, and Bucky merely threw his arms in the air then crossed them, managing to shrug at the same time.

Steve grinned. It was a position he was painfully familiar with, and there was something gratifying about seeing it directed at someone else for once.

Tony yelled long enough that Bucky started yelling back and then Tony reached down and packed a snowball of his own, lobbing it across the lawn. Bucky dodged it, but it hit the side of the compound with explosive force. Tony had a good arm on him - two actually, Steve had seen him type, write, eat, and throw with both arms. And lo and behold, he had another snowball already, whipping it out before Bucky could get his balance again in the deep snow.

It crashed into Bucky’s chest, and everything broke into chaos. Both men dove for cover, frantically scrambling for handfuls of snow, gloves immediately turning white. Snowballs flew across the space, churning up the serene landscape Steve had been enjoying and he watched with a wide smile, unable to hold back the joy and relief of seeing two people he cared so much about finding their way with each other.  Because, well, this was them finding their way with each other, even if Tony was hollering visible profanities across the snow-covered lawn, and Bucky was stockpiling snowballs with an aggressive glint in his eye.

The fight went on until they were both pink and panting, covered in snow from head to foot. Tony’s knit hat was soaking wet and drooping down his face, and Bucky’s hair clung to his chin in damp, matted strands. Bucky had shedded two of his layers. Tony had quickly built a ridge of snow as a defensive position, while Bucky kept his spot near the compound wall. Tony used the repulsor in his watch to melt Bucky’s snowballs before they could hit him, but trying to defend his fort and make new snowballs at the same time was splitting his focus, and Steve could see Bucky’s plan taking shape.

Bucky waited until Tony ducked down behind his makeshift wall and then he bolted. Buck ran at top speed across the snow then twisted around behind Tony’s defenses and let loose with an absolute barrage of snowballs.

Steve could swear he could hear Tony’s screech through the window, and he laughed as Tony surged up and flung himself at Bucky. Bucky caught Tony on impulse and they both went down sending up a spray of white powder as they landed in a tangle of limbs.

Steve was laughing uncontrollably now. He pressed a hand over his mouth to keep from waking Natasha who was napping in the next room over. His book had fallen to the floor, but he ignored it, not wanting to miss a moment of the development happening outside the window.

Tony and Bucky rolled around in the snow for a moment, each trying to get enough of an upper-hand to rub a gloveful of snow in the other’s face, but only succeeded in getting both of them even more soaked. Bucky finally managed to get Tony flipped on his back and shoved snow down Tony’s shirt. He grabbed Bucky’s arm with his gauntlet and locked them in a deadlock. Both their chests heaved, eyes locked on each other, and Steve pushed up out of his chair, peering over the back to get a better view. Neither man was moving…

Then Bucky jerked forward a little, leaning down, he paused again and Tony didn’t move, still as a deer in headlights.

"Kiss him, you punk,” Steve hissed out, both hands gripped tight on the back of the chair, up on his knees now, the blanket forgotten on the floor.

Bucky twitched again, but this time Tony surged up to meet him and their lips met.

“Fuck yes!” Steve threw his fist in the air.

“Shut up!” came Clint’s shout from the other room.

“Sorry.” Steve slid back down in his chair until he was just peeking over the edge.

Tony’s arms had come up to wrap around Bucky’s back, tugging him down until they were pressed tightly together. They were both a mess of wet clothes and snow, but neither seemed to care, completely absorbed as they were in a rapidly heating makeout session.

Steve slipped back down in his chair, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. He lifted his blanket back up and tucked it around his legs then collected his book and opened it to the page he’d bookmarked.

But he couldn’t focus on reading right now. All he could think about was the two men out in the snow that he cared about so much it ached, finally finding each other. It felt like the last puzzle piece of home had finally fallen into place. He knew in a few minutes they’d come stomping in, shaking snow off in the lobby. They’d sit at opposite ends of the table at dinner, trying to pretend they weren’t shooting little looks filled with an entirely different kind of hunger across the table. That night, if Steve went to see if Bucky wanted to play cards, his apartment would be suspiciously empty, and Tony’s would be firmly locked. But eventually, after some time, they’d trust Steve to tell him and he’d be able to tell them how happy it made him. Honestly, purely, right-to-his-core happy.

Steve knew there was a chance it wouldn’t last forever, that he’d be caught in the crossfire if it did start to break down. But right now, his two best friends were happy, together, and that was all he needed.


	29. Cake (Steve/Bucky/Tony)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think you need to beat the eggs before you add them.” Steve frowned at the back of the box. “It doesn’t say.”
> 
> “It’s a mix, Stevie.” Bucky sighed and slapped the spatula against the bowl. “Isn’t it supposed to be easy? Look the eggs will get beaten as we mix it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stuckony, Steve/Bucky/Tony, Birthdays, Baking, Established Relationship.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> For Happy Steve Bingo.

“I think you need to beat the eggs before you add them.” Steve frowned at the back of the box. “It doesn’t say.” **  
**

“It’s a mix, Stevie.” Bucky sighed and slapped the spatula against the bowl. “Isn’t it supposed to be easy? Look the eggs will get beaten as we mix it.”

“But what if that makes the texture weird or something?”

“Would you calm down? It’s a cake, not rocket science.”

Steve looked down at the box again. It sure looked easy. But they only had time to make this once, and if it didn’t work, Tony would come home to nothing. “I just really want everything to be perfect.”

“It will be. You’ll see.” Bucky patted him on the shoulder then turned back to the bowl. “Okay. Read it out again.”

Steve went over the ingredients and they carefully measured everything out and added it to the bowl. The eggs went in unbeaten, to Steve’s dismay, but Bucky, smacked his hand away when he tried to stir them up on top of the mixture.

They’d been dating Tony for about eight months now, and everything was going really well. But today was Tony’s thirtieth birthday, and they both desperately wanted to take the chance to show him how much they cared about him. It was hard, making sure that Tony understood how invested they both were in him, when they’d been dating each other for three years before Tony even came into the picture.

At first, Tony had insisted that he was nothing more than a hookup, pushing away every opportunity at more that the couple presented. With constant pressure, and many dates with just one of the two of them, Tony had finally softened, finally agreed to call them his boyfriends. Steve wanted nothing more than the two of them, in his arms, all the time. His life finally felt steady, balanced.

“It looks lumpy,” Bucky announced, pulling Steve out of his reminiscence.

“What do you mean, lumpy?” Steve leaned over the bowl, and Bucky poked the mixture, raising doughy clumps to the surface. “Hmm. Stir it harder, I guess.”

“What if I overbeat it?”

“Surely that’s better than lumpy.”

Bucky sighed, but whipped his spatula around the bowl vigorously, nearly spraying cake mix across the kitchen counter. Steve yelped and smacked his shoulder, but when Bucky stopped, sure enough, the batter was smooth.

Steve poured it in the cake pan and put them in the oven. They both hovered nervously, watching the timer countdown. “We can’t stand here for thirty minutes,” Steve said,

“I know.” Bucky shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Guess we’ll have to find something else to do.” Bucky turned suddenly and pinned Steve against the counter. He cupped Steve’s jaw and drew him into a kiss, pulling him into his arms then driving him back onto the couch when he parted his lips and moaned softly. Bucky’s mouth occupied Steve while the cake cooked, wandering hands making Steve almost forget about it until the timer went off. Steve pulled open the oven and they inspected the cake.

“Hmm,” Bucky said.

“It’s getting awfully dark on the edges.”

“But the middle is still a puddle.”

Steve frowned, reaching out to poke the wobbly bit at the centre. His finger dipped right into it. “I guess we need to keep cooking it.”

They put it back in four more times before the middle was cooked, their clothes increasingly rumpled each time, but by then, the outer edges were so dark brown they were almost black, and they were rock hard when Steve tapped them with his finger. “This doesn’t seem right.”

Bucky’s brow twisted. “Maybe after it cools…?” Steve shot him a look. Neither of them believed that. “We can trim the darkest bits off.”

“Right…” Steve stared morosely at the uneven cake until Bucky wrapped his arms around him and dragged him back over to the couch. He backed Steve up and pushed him down then climbed into his lap, kissing him silly. It wasn’t long before the cake was shoved entirely out of Steve’s mind.

An hour later, thoroughly kissed and with a few decorations thrown around the apartment and a small pile of presents laid out on the coffee table, they stood side by side in the kitchen, staring down at Bucky’s phone while it played a youtube video about icing a cake. Steve’s brow twisted tighter and tighter as the chipper young woman on screen talked about “crumb coats” and “tier separators.”

They pawed through the bag of supplies they’d bought, trying to match what they had with what she was talking about. Between the two of them, they managed to get a somewhat even layer of icing on top of the bottom layer, which they’d trimmed liberally to relieve it of its burnt edges (most of which had helpfully stuck to the pan anyway). Bucky placed the top layer on and they watched in grim silence as it slipped to the side. Steve pushed it back. It slipped again.

“Fuck,” Bucky said.

“It’s fine.” Steve grit his teeth. “We’ll hide it with more icing.”

Several layers of icing later, it was almost cake shaped. They moved on to decorating.

“This tip says it does flowers.” Steve held it up. “I feel like these are all flowers. At least, they all look floral.”

“There’s no gear icing tip?” Bucky asked.

“Sadly, no.”

“Flowers it is then. Here.” Bucky held the bag and Steve dropped the tip in, then spooned in the icing.

In the end, it didn’t matter that the tip was for flowers.

“They look like blobs.”

“Shut up! I’m trying, okay?” Steve grumbled. “I’d like to see you do better.”

“Fine, give it here.”

“No. I was just saying that. Come on, I’ve almost got it.”

“You’re using up all the icing on practicing. Steve - Steve give it - Steve!”

Steve danced out of the way, icing bag clutched in his fist, laughing. He made it as far as the living room when Bucky tackled him to the ground. Steve spun in his hold and squeezed the bag, squirting a line of blue icing down the length of Bucky’s nose.

“You asshole!” Bucky got his hand around Steve’s wrist and shoved the icing bag towards his face, making Steve screech and squirm under him. They wrestled, the icing bag slowly emptying over the two of them, then fell into licking it off each other before tumbling into the bathroom to wipe clean. Bucky’s nose remained blue, even after a lot of scrubbing with a washcloth, but Steve distracted him with increasingly heated kisses, followed by a promise to let him try out the flower tips next.

It took almost forty-five minutes to decorate the cake. Bucky squeezed out the last crooked flower and they both stood back to examine it.

“Oh god.”

The two layers were obviously different size, and the top one was slipping precariously to the side. The icing was too thick on the top and too thin on the sides, pooling down to make a little bulging skirt of icing on the plate. The decorations were haphazard at best, uneven, crooked, half little more than shapeless blobs, half twisting off to the side. Steve had tried to write “Happy Birthday” in the middle of the circle of flowers but it looked more like “4appp B#rhyy”

“It’s horrific,” Steve whispered, wondering if it was too late to go to the store. Surely a grocery store cake would still be better than this monstrosity.

“Mr. Stark is home,” JARVIS said pointedly, and Bucky pulled away with a yelp of surprise. They tore around the kitchen, throwing dirty dishes in the sink and wiping icing off the counters. By the time the elevator whirred up to the penthouse, they had the apartment looking halfway decent, and Steve’s chest was hardly heaving as he settled in to stand next to Bucky.

The doors chimed as they opened and Tony called out “Honeys, I’m home!’ and then chuckled to himself. A moment later, he appeared around the corner and screeched to a halt. "What -?”

Steve stepped aside and revealed the cake as Bucky stepped forward and threw his arm around Tony’s shoulder. “Welcome home, babe.” He kissed Tony’s cheek, and Tony leaned into it, but his eyes didn’t waver from the cake.

“Did you guys make that for me?” Tony asked, hushed.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Steve stepped forward and pulled Tony into a kiss of his own. His lips were warm and soft and they parted easily to let Steve push the kiss deeper. When he pulled back, he touched his forehead to Tony’s. “Happy birthday.”

“Oh… uh…” Tony twisted out of Bucky’s hold and shuffled awkwardly. “Great.”

Steve and Bucky shared a look. “What?” they asked in unison.

Tony blushed prettily. “So… I didn’t know you were going to go to all this trouble so I sort of ordered a custom, white chocolate and caramel cake from Giovanni. Sorry… that’s what I always do on my birthday. I guess it never occured to me that you guys might do something. But it doesn’t matter!” He walked back to the front hall and tugged a big, white box with orange ribbon off the table by the door. “I’ll just freeze it. Or I’ll bring it to work on Monday and give it to my staff to eat.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Bucky stood between Tony and the fridge. He lifted the edge of the box then nodded over it at Steve. “It’s perfect.”

“Right.” Steve nodded back then walked over to the counter, lifted the half-burnt, crooked monstrosity and tipped it in the trash.

“What? No!” Tony dumped the box in Bucky’s arms and shoved Steve away. He frowned down at the cake which Steve was pretty sure looked better as a smear at the bottom of the trash can than it had assembled. “I wanted to eat your cake.”

“You really didn’t, doll,” Bucky insisted. He set the pretty cake box down and popped the sides open to reveal the most beautiful cake Steve had ever seen. Smooth white icing was covered in a web of perfect, sugary caramel, and it smelled heavenly, like white chocolate and sweet buttercream.

“Our cake was burnt  _and_  undercooked. It probably would have killed you.”

“Plus the top layer was about to fall off anyway.”

“And I still think we did the eggs wrong.”

Tony sighed and crossed his arms, eyeing up the two men. Steve smiled nervously. “I would have eaten it,” Tony said.

“We know.” Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and kissed the tip of his nose. “But it would have just been for our egos. No one was going to enjoy that cake, promise. This is much better.”

“Next year, though,” Bucky said, curling around Tony from behind. “Next year  _we’ll_  order your favourite cake. Now that we know what it is.”

“And also now that we know how hard it is to make one ourselves.”

“That too.” They snuggled Tony in between them.

“Happy birthday,” Steve said, and Tony beamed.

“Best birthday ever. All I ever wanted was you two.” He leaned back against Bucky’s chest and Steve leaned down to kiss him silly. Bucky buried his face in Steve’s hair and everything was warm and perfect and  _family_. Steve kissed Bucky then travelled back down Tony’s neck to the curve of his collarbone. Tony sighed and sunk back into Bucky’s hold, eyes fluttering open and tipping up. “Uh guys?”

“Yeah?”

“Why is there icing on the ceiling?”


	30. Breakdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Established Relationship, Happy, Fluffy, Kisses, Banter.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> Thank you to Fluffypanda for the idea!

Steve stretched his legs up on the dash and tipped his head back, basking in the warmth of the early afternoon sun. “How’s it looking, Tony?” **  
**

“Fantastic,” Tony growled back, and Steve suppressed a grin. The open car hood blocked Tony’s face from view, but Steve slipped his eyes shut and he could picture it perfectly: the tongue trapped tightly between his teeth, the twist to his brow, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, arms deep in the chest of the convertible.

“I have the tow company number right here in my phone!” Steve sing-songed.

“I  _know.”_  Tony huffed. “Thank you, Steven.”

“I just have to push one button…”

“I can fix it!” Tony insisted.

“I know you can, sweetheart,” Steve said, “but you’ve been poking around in there for half an hour and you don’t have to. Because you’re very rich and influential. And even if -”

Tony’s voice suddenly appeared at Steve’s side. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. America.”

Steve opened his eyes and smiled at Tony. He was folded over the car door, smirking at Steve in a way that never failed to make his blood heat. There were grease marks on his arms and Steve couldn’t pull his gaze away from them. “That’s Captain to you, Mr. Stark.”

“That’s Mr. Rogers to you, Captain Stark.”

Steve chuckled. He reached out and petted across Tony’s cheek with his thumb. “Tony, sweetheart, we’re going to miss the conference if this shiny new car of yours breaks down one more time. And as much as I love getting to spend more time with you, turning a five-hour road trip into a sixteen-hour road trip might be more than our marriage can handle.”

Tony pulled open the car door and pressed forward, predatory, until Steve tipped back in his seat and let Tony climb up into his lap. “Come on, this is better than our honeymoon. Just you, me, and the open road.”

“Our honeymoon was just you, me, and a private island with a million dollar yacht and catered meals. Gas station bathrooms and twinkies is better?”

Tony hummed. He bent and kissed his way along Steve’s jaw. “Okay, maybe not better, but I’ll take any opportunity to spend sixteen hours with you.”

Steve slid his hands up the back of Tony’s shirt, tugging it out of his pants when he found his access limited. “You know… if we call a tow truck and hire a car to take us the rest of the way… we can ditch the conference and spend the next sixteen hours together in the extremely fancy hotel room you have booked for us.”

“I can fix it, you know.”

“I know. You’re very impressive and skilled and good hands and all that stuff,” Steve murmured against Tony’s lips.

“Hands?”

“Very good hands.” The hands in question burrowed under the waistband of Steve’s jeans. “Very good… but I’d rather they were all over me than digging around in that uh -”

“Uh?”

Steve blinked up at Tony’s face as Tony’s fingers slipped lower and Steve felt a dangerous rush of blood. “Tony,” he shook his head with a smile. “What are you doing?”

“Just distracting you,” Tony replied, writhing a little in Steve’s lap and making Steve’s hands clench on Tony’s hips.

“Hmm?” Steve rocked them slowly together. “Distracting me from what?”

Tony reached down and pulled hard on the seat lever, dropping Steve flat and knocking a gasp loose. Tony bent down and kissed Steve hard then worked his way along his jaw to behind his ear. He nipped at his earlobe then leaned in and whispered. “From the fact that I already called a tow truck ten minutes ago and a town car is on its way to take us the rest of the way to the very fancy hotel I booked for us so we can enjoy each other for the next sixteen hours.”

Steve burst out laughing. “Tony…” he murmured affectionately.

Tony pressed his finger against Steve’s lips. “You don’t get to say I told you so.”

Steve grinned and tugged Tony back down into his arms. “I wouldn’t dare.”


	31. Three Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We need to talk,” Tony said, walking into the room with the pained, false-confident stride of a doomed man on his way to the guillotine. He was dreading this, but it had to be done.
> 
> Steve shot him a brilliant smile. “Nope!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Break ups and Make ups, Sort of, Fluffy, Silly, Disagreements, Established Relationship.
> 
> Rated: T

“We need to talk,” Tony said, walking into the room with the pained, false-confident stride of a doomed man on his way to the guillotine. He was dreading this, but it had to be done.

Steve shot him a brilliant smile. “Nope!”

Tony blinked then spluttered, “What - I - no, you can’t - no -”

“I think I just did. See you later.” Steve pushed to his feet and walked out, leaving a stunned Tony behind.

**

Tony next cornered Steve in the gym, his eyes flicking up and down as Steve bounced on the treadmill. “Steve. We need to talk.”

_Sorry,_  Steve mouthed,  _can’t hear you._ He gestured to the earbuds in his ears then turned his gaze serenely towards the far wall.

Tony opened and closed his mouth a few times, then turned on his heel and left.

**

“Steve, look,” Tony started, leaning over the back of the couch. “I -” He cut-off when his eyes fell on Natasha, hidden on the floor in front of the couch. She sat at Steve’s feet, working bright blue polish over his toenails. “Uh. Hi, Nat.”

“Hey, Tony.” She grinned at him.

Tony turned back to Steve. “I really need to talk to you.”

“Sorry, sweetheart, I told Nat she had me all afternoon. It’ll have to be another time.”

**

Steve walked into the kitchen, and Tony started chewing madly, trying to get his huge mouthful of peanut butter toast down his throat before Steve left again. Steve wandered around, pouring juice and selecting a yogurt from the fridge while Tony swallowed desperately, adding a layer off coffee in the hopes it would wash it down. All it did was make a truly disturbing flavour combination. Steve rounded the counter and pressed a kiss to the top of Tony’s head.

“Morning, darling.”

“Nu-!” Tony tried, sticky crumbs spilling out. “I hef ta- tu- oo-” Tony tried, but Steve just shook his head affectionately and walked out.

**

Steve’s shield bounced down the street, taking down alien after alien before returning to his hand. Tony swooped around behind him. Landing at his back and spraying repulsor fire at the oncoming horde.

“Steve! We have to talk!” Tony yelled over the noise of battle.

“No chatter on the comms, sweetpea!” Steve said brightly, ducking low to roll under Tony’s arm and slam his shield into another alien.

“Goddamnit!” Tony swore. “Will you just -”

“Iron Man! I need extraction!” Clint called, and Tony fired off again, swooping through the sky. JARVIS muted his mic so he could spill forth a volley of curses that would make even Fury blush.

**

“Stop right there, Rogers!”

Steve screeched to a halt at the end of the hall.

Tony advanced on him. “It’s been three days. Three days of dodging me, three days of ducking out of rooms, three days of coming to bed after I’m asleep, cuddling me to within an inch of my life -  _yes I know you have been, I woke up with your hair in my mouth_  - then getting up before I’m awake. Three days. No more! You. Me. We need to talk.”

Steve nodded. “Okay.”

“Wait - I - what?”

“Okay. Let’s talk. Come on.” Steve took Tony’s hand and gently led him into the living room. He deposited him on the couch then fetched two glasses of water, one of which he handed to Tony. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

Tony blinked at him, mouth open, then took a sip of water to cover his confusion. “I don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?”

“You made it obvious you didn’t want to talk to me for three days and now it’s just ‘sure’?” Tony picked at a water spot on the side of the glass. “So, now you’re fine with it. You want to break up.”

Steve’s hand slid over and covered Tony’s knee. “No, of course I don’t want to break up. I never wanted to break up. But if you want to, if you still want to… It’ll hurt. A lot. But I understand. If you don’t want to be with me anymore…” Steve’s voice broke. “I’ll let you go.”

“Why did you dodge me for three days then? Just to delay the inevitable? Drag this out? For fucks sake, Steve. This has been torturing me.”

“Because you asked me to.”

“What?!”

“You asked me to. When we first got together, in that restaurant, what, three months ago? You said, 'I’m going to panic the first time we fight and try to break up with you, just a warning.’ and I said, 'I won’t let you.’” Steve shrugged. “I figured three days was enough time to cool off a bit and be sure you really meant it.” He wound their fingers together. “So, yes. If, now, after some time to think about it, you still want to break up with me, then okay. But if it was just the heat of the moment… can we talk it out, instead?”

Tony rubbed the pad of his thumb over the back of Steve’s hand. He loved those hands. “You still want to be with me after I yelled and then spent three days breaking up with you?”

“Of course. It was just a fight, Tony. There are going to be fights. Two people as hot headed as we are… there are definitely going to be fights. But it doesn’t mean everything has to be over. We just need to take some time, breathe, then talk about it.” He reached up with his other hand and brushed his fingers through Tony’s hair. Tony leaned into the touch. “I can’t promise we’ll be together forever, maybe one of these days, it’ll be too much, we’ll go too far. But this was just a little disagreement, and I think we’re worth trying, if you do.”

Tony sniffed and turned his suddenly prickling eyes towards the window. He took another drink of water to wash down the lump in his throat. “I may have already told some people that we broke up,” he said haughtily. “I decided that since you wouldn’t let me break up with you, I’d just do it on my own.”

“Is that what you want?”

Tony flicked his eyes back over to Steve’s. Bright, wide, wondering. That was real hope glowing in them, real love. “No. No, that’s not what I want,” he admitted. The licking flames of their fight had faded into nothing more than smouldering embers, easily washed out.  "I want to be with you.“

Steve burst into a beautiful grin, like a firework going off. "Alright. Guess we’ll just have to get back together then.”

Tony laughed. “Are you going to dodge me for three days every time we fight?”

“Only if you spend them trying to break up with me.”

“Okay.” Tony curled into Steve’s lap, pressing his face against his neck. “That works.”


	32. The Hitchhiker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s hand tightened on the steering wheel and he leaned forward to peer through the growing grey of late afternoon. Sure enough, there was a figure hunched by the side of the road, one mittened hand thrust out towards the cars that whipped past. The figure leapt backwards as a spray of slush sprayed over him, and Steve saw the dejected fall of his shoulders. Steve’s ma had always warned him about hitchhikers, but Steve was 220 pounds of pure muscle now, and he wasn’t too worried.
> 
> Besides, it was the middle of winter. No one should be out in the cold tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strangers, Meet... Sexy?, Blowjobs, Hitchhiking, Road Head, Naughty, Unsafe Sex.
> 
> Rated: E
> 
> For Happy Steve Bingo.

Steve’s hand tightened on the steering wheel and he leaned forward to peer through the growing grey of late afternoon. Sure enough, there was a figure hunched by the side of the road, one mittened hand thrust out towards the cars that whipped past. The figure leapt backwards as a spray of slush sprayed over him, and Steve saw the dejected fall of his shoulders. Steve’s ma had always warned him about hitchhikers, but Steve was 220 pounds of pure muscle now, and he wasn’t too worried. **  
**

Besides, it was the middle of winter. No one should be out in the cold tonight.

Steve guided his pickup to the side of the road, waving at the guy as he passed him before he came to a stop on the gravel shoulder. The bundle of coats trotted after him then tugged on the door handle, letting in a blast of icy air when he managed to get it open. Steve caught sight of bright brown eyes under the cuff of a knitted cap, but the rest of him was completely obscured by layers and knitwear.

“Going west?” the guy asked, teeth chattering around the words, and Steve nodded.

“For a while. Hop in.”

The hitchhiker shoved his duffle bag into the footwell and climbed up after it. “Thanks.”

Steve cranked the heat all the way up and flicked his blinker on, waiting until traffic cleared to pull back out. The full blast of the heater blocked out any other sounds, so for the first few minutes, they travelled in silence, Steve sneaking glances at his new passenger whenever he could. “Steve,” he finally said, stretching his hand across the cab towards the hitchhiker.

The guy clicked the heater back down to low and slipped his hand in Steve, shook it once. “Tony. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Tony started to unwind himself from his extensive layers, laying them out on the bench seat between them. He revealed a mess of damp, brown curls, cheeks pinked with chill and a few days worth of stubble. He looked about twenty-two or twenty-three.

“So where are you headed?” Steve asked, sneaking another look as Tony unzipped his jacket and exposed a dark blue fitted sweater over an undeniably shapely chest.

Tony’s eyes flicked his way. “West,” he said simply, dismissively.

Steve shrugged. “Okay. I’m going as far as Oak Hill. You’re welcome to join me as long as you like. Or if there’s somewhere you want to get off, just let me know.”

Tony shot him another look, the corner of his lip curling up in the hint of a smirk this time. “Sure thing.”

They fell into easy silence again, and Steve turned his attention back to the road. With the air vents back on low, he could hear the radio, burbling out classic hits. When AC/DC came on, Tony’s fingers started tapping on his thigh to the beat.

A few hundred miles later, Tony had finished stripping off most of his layers, down to just jeans and his soft-looking sweater. He had held his hands in front of the vent for a few minutes, rubbing them together and bouncing slightly, but once the angry red chill had faded from his skin, he snuggled down in his seat, one foot up on the curve of the door, and stared out the window.

But the next time Steve glanced over, Tony was looking at him and he smiled. “Hey, sorry. I don’t handle the cold well. Malibu kid. Didn’t mean to be a dick.”

“That’s okay. You don’t need to talk.”

“Hmm…” Tony shifted in his seat, moving closer. He started folding up his woolies and setting them on his bag down in the footwell.

Steve twisted a little, trying to keep his eyes on the now empty highway, but distracted by the way Tony moved into his space.

“Don’t need to talk, huh?”

Tony’s tone had Steve swallowing heavily. “I - I didn’t mean -”

Tony laughed. “I know. I’m just really grateful, that’s all. So if there’s anything I can do thank you…” He batted his eyelashes up at Steve, and Steve’s palms started sweating on the steering wheel.

“It’s okay.”

“Alright.” Tony settled back in his seat. “Nice truck, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Steve glued his eyes to the road. It hadn’t even crossed his mind before, but Tony’s flirting set a heat throbbing low in his gut. He’d been so focused on school and taking care of his ma, making time for a date hadn’t been a priority a long time. But Tony was hot, and kept shooting Steve flirty little smiles as they trundled along the road.

“So what do you do to pass the time?” Tony asked, tugging his sleeves over his hands and twisting the fabric between his fingers.

Steve sighed. “Honestly? I usually try and do my homework in my head so it’s faster for me to do when I get home.”

“You’re in school?”

“Yeah. Third year college. But my ma is sick so I come home every weekend to look out for her. I do about fifteen hours of driving each week.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“You’re like - legitimately a really good person, aren’t you?”

Steve shot him a look. “Not really? I mean, just average.”

“Well, you must have a good relationship with your mom if you drive all this way to take care of her every weekend.”

“Sure. She’s my mom.”

Tony quirked an eyebrow. “That’s nice.”

“You don’t get on with your folks?”

“Nope. That’s why I’m hitching my way across the country instead of stepping into my dad’s four thousand dollar, patent leather shoes.”

“Ah. Sorry.”

Tony shrugged. “Whatever. I’m having a great time travelling, so it’s all for the best.” His eyes slid over towards Steve again, darkening, and Steve felt his cheeks heating.

“Oh yeah?” Steve shifted in his seat. “Do you - uh -” He swallowed and looked over at Tony again. His pants were tightening, thinking about what Tony might have been offering before, and he leaned forward a bit so his shirt would cover the rising bulge. “You’ve just been hitchhiking your way along? Where did you start?”

“Boston.” Tony put his feet up on the dash and rolled the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows.

“What’s your final destination?”

Tony shrugged again. “Not sure. Somewhere interesting.”

Tony’s forearms were lean but muscular, and when he pushed his hand through his hair, sending the curls wild, Steve’s cock throbbed fuller and pressed against the seam of his pants. He shifted again, visions of Tony sucking his way across America surging up in Steve’s mind without warning.

“Sure you don’t want help with that?” Tony asked, and Steve traced his eyeline down to his crotch.

“Shit, Tony.” Steve finally gave into the urge to spread his legs and wriggle until he was more comfortable, pants tented awkwardly. “I’m not going to make you - uh - pay me back. I’m happy to drive you, no strings attached.” But he couldn’t deny how appealing the thought was.

“I’m offering,” Tony said. “You didn’t ask. But I’m really grateful and…” he leaned in and breathed warm air on Steve’s cheek. “I’m really, really good.”

“Fuck.” Steve shot him another look. “Are you - do you -?”

Tony chuckled. “I’m not a hooker, just horny. And I like sucking cock. You look like you have a really nice cock, Steve.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure.”

Steve tightened his hands on the steering wheel. “Not very safe…”

Tony’s tongue darted out and licked a wet line up the edge of Steve’s ear. “Live a little.”

“Okay.” A shudder rippled down Steve’s spine. He knew he should say no, but Tony was eager and warm and here. And it’d been so long. “Yes,” he breathed. “Please.”

Tony moved towards him.

“Wait. I don’t have a condom.”

Tony eyed him up. “You seem way too wound up to be anything but clean.”

Steve snorted. “What?”

“Come on… you’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Tony’s eyes twinkled. “I trust you.”

Steve watched the snow flick on the windshield. “I am clean,” he offered.

“Me too. I trust you,” Tony repeated. He shuffled across the seat and landed a hot hand on Steve’s thigh. Steve swore under his breath and rolled his hips up towards Tony’s touch. Tony made short work of his zipper and ran teasing fingertips up the bulge of his boxers, making Steve’s cock jump and twitch. He tried to focus on the road as it flew by, but Tony’s fingers working the button of his boxers open was incredibly distracting.

Tony managed to sprawl across the bench seat in a way that should have looked uncomfortable but he somehow made look sultry instead. He pulled Steve’s cock free and wasted no time licking a stripe up the length of it.

“Fuck, Tony -” Steve gasped, clenching his hands on the wheel to keep from grabbing Tony’s hair. Arousal rushed through him like a drug. It felt so good to be touched, to have another warm body pressed close to his, and he could already feel the wet heat of Tony’s mouth hovering over his cock.

“Holy shit, you’re huge,” Tony said with a light laugh. “It’s my fucking birthday. You gonna choke me with that thing, Steve?”

Steve started to speak, but Tony’s lips closed around the head of his cock and he sucked lightly, swirling his tongue over the slit. All words evaporated from Steve’s brain. He fixed his eyes on the road and tried to remember to breathe. How on earth was this his life right now?

Tony sunk his head down, swallowing Steve’s cock until his nose hit Steve’s zipper. His throat muscles clenched with vise-like heat, rippling. He sucked then pulled back, swirling his tongue around the head of Steve’s cock as he popped off.

Steve was panting already, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. Tony’s hot, wet throat closed around him again, and Tony started bobbing his head up and down. There was something about Tony being a stranger that sent a fizzling curl of electric pleasure through Steve’s gut. He always played it careful, waited until the third date, but Tony seemed to be about nothing but feeling good, nothing but seizing the moment. And fuck it was a good moment.

Steve swallowed heavily and focused on the road, worried that if he let any more of his brain think about Tony’s tongue stroking along the underside of his cock he’d come right then and there. Steve glanced over to where Tony was twisted on the seat and saw the bulge in his pants that said it wasn’t just Steve who was enjoying this. Tony moaned, the vibration making Steve gasp and kick his hips up, and Steve couldn’t resist dropping a hand to Tony’s hair.

He didn’t push or twist his fingers through the strands, Steve just rested his palm on the back of Tony’s head, enough pressure to ease the urge to thrust, to do something, but enough to prevent Tony from moving back.

Tony started slow, sucking as he slipped back then running his tongue firmly along Steve’s length as he slipped down again. Every time his nose hit Steve’s zipper he swallowed, muscles contracting around the head of Steve’s cock.

“God, you’re good at that,” Steve murmured. He stroked his fingers through Tony’s hair gently, then scratched a little with his nails. When that earned another moan, he kept it up, working his way across Tony’s scalp while Tony slipped up and down his cock. Tony’s pace increased, bobbing his head up and down more roughly now, and Steve’s could hear the little gasps of breath Tony sucked in through his nose on each backslide. It was like he wanted Steve’s cock in his body more than he wanted oxygen and that thought sent another hot rush of need through Steve’s veins.

His body was begging for release already, but Steve held off, focusing on controlling himself. He wanted this to last, and Tony showed no signs of flagging. If anything, Tony was enjoying himself more and more the harder he sucked, the faster he moved. There was a wet patch seeping through Tony’s pants right where the head of his cock pressed against the fabric of his pants.

“That feels so good,” Steve breathed, and Tony choked a little, moaned, then picked up the pace again. “You like that? Being told how good you feel, how good you are?”

Tony moaned again in reply, bobbing his head like a nod until Steve’s cock hit the back of his throat.

“Fuck Tony, it’s like you were born to suck cock. Is this how you’ve been getting by? Crossing the country with a dick in your mouth? I hope so. It’s the best use for you.” Steve glanced down to see Tony’s hips start to move in desperate little half-thrusts, but there was nothing for him to get friction against.

He swallowed harder and shifted up onto his elbow, driving down onto Steve like he was riding him, as if he was chasing his own orgasm instead of Steve’s. And Steve realized he kind of was. Tony was painfully hard-looking, and though neither of his hands moved to touch himself, he was thrusting more intently now, the wet patch spreading.

It felt like a race, suddenly, heady and exhilarating. Could Steve get Tony off with his words and his cock before Tony got Steve off with his mouth?

“Fucking fantastic,” Steve moaned. “I feel like I’m going to drive off the road. All I can think about is your hot, wet mouth. It’s better than anything I’ve stuck my cock in before. It’s like you were made for this, made for me. Custom made.” That got a full body shudder from Tony. “Like a sex toy,” Steve whispered. “I wish I had something like you all the time, here in my truck, to take care of things when it gets too lonely on these long drives. God I - ah -“ Steve twisted in his seat, his hips rocking up without his permission. Tony felt so good, fucking his own face with Steve’s cock, bobbing up and down, spit dribbling down between Steve’s legs. All Steve had to do was thrust up and he could feel more of him, get that perfect, rough friction he craved.

Steve glanced back at Tony’s crotch. He was thrusting against nothing, in time with his movements down Steve’s cock now. Steve could imagine the barely-there, too soft and too rough friction of Tony’s underwear being all he got and a shiver ran down his spine. "You going to come on my cock, Tony? You’re going to, aren’t you? You filthy thing. You’re so hard from sucking me off, you’re not going to be able to stop yourself. Come on, Tony. Come for me. I want to see - ah - fuck -” Steve’s fingers twisted through Tony’s hair and held on, unable to stop bouncing him up and down on his cock at the perfect pace his body required. Tony went limp in his hold, letting himself be used, until Steve pushed him down to the base and cried out as he shot come down Tony’s throat, wave after wave, the race forgotten.

Tony whined, his leg kicking out against the door as he swallowed and swallowed and squirmed.

“Fuck, Tony,” Steve breathed, when his orgasm had abated enough to speak. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever fucked.”

Tony went off like a shot, twitching and groaning as he came in his pants. Steve flicked his eyes between the road and Tony, watching the damp patch on his pants spread. When Tony stopped moving and started whining quietly with each hitching intake of breath, Steve let his hair go.

Tony pulled off slowly, sucking to clean Steve’s cock off. He swallowed heavily then gasped in several breaths in a row, come and spit dripping down his chin. Steve forced himself to look back at the road. “God, that’s hot.”

Tony groaned and flopped back into his seat, filling the cab with the sound of his heaving breaths. “Guh,” he said, and then he laughed quietly. “Wow. I can’t - I think my brain is -” He waved his hand. “Wow.”

“No kidding,” Steve said breathlessly. “I hope - uh - the stuff I said -”

“Super hot,” Tony interrupted. “Jesus.”

They fell into exhausted silence for a moment, the truck humming along the quiet road. Steve snuck a few glances towards Tony, catching the soft smile that settled on the corners of his mouth. His tongue darted out and brushed along his lower lip, and Steve’s breath caught. There was something about this guy…

“So you said you’re heading somewhere interesting?” Steve asked, when he couldn’t take the silence anymore. “Where do you want me to drop you off?”

Tony twisted his sleeve around his fingers in a surprisingly meek gesture. “Where did you say you lived?”

“Oak Hill.”

He smiled, peeking up at Steve through soft eyelashes. “Sounds interesting.”


	33. Window Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was the long way home, sure, but it was worth it. Tony turned the corner and jogged across the street, making a beeline for a warm, cheery window halfway down the next block. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t on the way home, exactly. Maybe Tony was supposed to turn north at the last corner, not south. But, really, it was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy, Meet Cute, Pining.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> For Happy Steve Bingo.

It was the long way home, sure, but it was worth it. Tony turned the corner and jogged across the street, making a beeline for a warm, cheery window halfway down the next block. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t on the way home, exactly. Maybe Tony was supposed to turn north at the last corner, not south. But, really, it was worth it.

He checked his watch as he powered along the stretch of storefronts, panting out breath hot enough to be a cloud of steam in the cool, winter air. Six-thirty on the dot. He shoved his hands in his pockets and slowed as he approached the puddle of yellow light that spilled out of Shield Art Supplies.

The store was on day eight of a two-week sale on art supplies they’d labeled “Try Something New!” where a new art medium was deeply discounted each day. Normally, this would affect Tony not at all, since he couldn’t draw his way out of a paper bag, but he’d happened to walk past the window in the evening of day two and screeched to a stop.

There was a guy, who had apparently been tasked with changing the window display each day. With each new art medium, the guy took down the old display and put up a new one, featuring a selection of art using that medium. Tony hoped he was the artist - each one had the same SR scrawled in the corner - but even if he wasn’t, he was hot as shit, and Tony had struggled to pull his gaze away that first night.

So… if Tony had happened to find his route home from work altered to pass by the window, well, that was no one’s business but his own.

Today, Hot Window Guy was in the process of dismantling the soft pastel display and replacing it with Copic markers. He fit easily in the window space, several inches shorter than Tony - and Tony wondered more than once if that was why he’d been assigned the daily task - and his dark, fitted jeans hugged his rear snugly as he bent to stack a pile of books at his feet.

He had his dark blue and black plaid flannel rolled up to the elbows, and the forearms revealed were a mess of paint and ink stains.

Tony drifted closer to the window, watching Hot Window Guy reorganize things. When the guy straightened up to wipe clean the chalkboard that listed the discounts, bright blue eyes flicked out the window and settled on Tony. Hot Window Guy smiled, waved, and Tony turned on his heel and marched off, mortified. His cheeks burned, despite the cool weather, and he kept up a speed-walk pace until he turned the corner and started up the next block. Fleeing was almost certainly more suspicious than just waving back, but Tony had reacted on instinct instead of logic.

**

Getting caught out should have made Tony more reluctant to go back the next night, but he couldn’t help himself. The lure of Hot Window Guy was too strong. Tony hung back in the shadows by the bus stop to watch, and this time Hot Window Guy didn’t notice him. Tony watched him change the display to watercolours and sighed to himself when Hot Window Guy stepped down out of the window and disappeared. He had it so bad.

**

The next day was charcoals, and the sketch of a woman’s back as she zipped up her dress was so beautiful, it almost drew Tony’s eye away from the man hanging it, but only almost.

**

By the time they got to chalk, Tony was so completely in love he spent the rest of the walk home looking up art classes on his phone. Because there were only two more days in the sale and then what was he supposed to do?

**

Tony dragged his feet on the last day of the sale, a painful, vibrating sort of apprehension deep in his gut. It was his last day with an excuse to see Hot Window Guy, and he was going to have to actually talk to him or give up on ever seeing him again.

Who was he kidding? It’d be extremely creepy to barge into the store and start hitting on one of the employees - it’d have to be the latter.

He rounded the corner and his skin heated at the sight of the soft glow from the art store’s lights. It was pavlov’s blush at this point. But Tony’s heart sank when he sidled up in front of the store and found the display already changed, the chalkboard advertising 20% off everything they’d featured over the past two weeks, a collection of art and supplies filling the window. But no Hot Window Guy. Tony checked his phone - 6:30pm. For whatever reason, he’d done the window early tonight.

Tony sighed, more disappointed than he had any right to be. It was all for the best, really; he needed to start getting over this guy.

“Hey,” said a soft voice at this shoulder, and Tony turned and stopped breathing. Hot Window Guy was standing beside him, a black jacket with a short collar that framed his sharp jaw layered over his usual flannel.

“Um,” Tony replied.

Hot Window Guy smiled. “So… you’re here every night. I can only assume you were waiting for something in particular to go on sale. Can I help you find something?”

Tony stuttered for a moment then found his tongue. “No. Sorry. I was just window shopping.”

“For what?”

There was something playful and kind and - dare he say - flirty? about the guy’s voice, so Tony took a deep breath and a chance. “Coffee?”

Hot Window Guy’s eyebrows shot up, then he smiled, eyes dropping down to his shoes then flicking back up to Tony’s. “We don’t sell coffee here.”

Tony couldn’t stop a grin from spreading. “But the place down the street does?”

The guys considered him for a moment with obvious amusement. “Alright. I’m Steve by the way.”

He stuck out his hand, and Tony shook it, warm and firm in his grip. Butterflies filled Tony’s stomach. “Tony.”

“Let’s go then, Tony,” Steve said, tipping his head towards the coffee shop.

“Don’t you have to finish work? I can wait.”

Steve reached out and took Tony’s hand back, keeping it this time, and led him down the street and away from the shop. “Nah. I called out early tonight.” He grinned up at Tony through long eyelashes, eyes sparkling in the light from the streetlamp. “I was hoping you might stop by.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I'm all caught up on my tumblr, so I'm marking this as complete, for now. But I will add new chapters when I add new ficlets. If it gets too unwieldy, I guess I'll start a second one! Thanks for reading <3


	34. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They hurt you," Steve growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ultimates  
> Illness, Cancer, Discussions of Cancer Treatment, Happy Ending, Love, Care, Caring Steve, Protective!Steve, Hurt!Tony.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> This is for my bday prompts, for anon, who wanted the prompt: "They hurt you." with hurt Tony and protective Steve. I don't think this is exactly what you had in mind, but this is what happened. I hope you like it! Thank you! <3

"They hurt you," Steve growled.

Tony collapsed into a large, puffy armchair with a groan and his eyes fluttered shut. Steve frowned at the dark circles under his fanned-out eyelashes. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine." Steve sat down hard on the arm of the chair, leaning in slightly so he could feel the pressure of Tony's side against his hip. 

Tony tipped his head over until it rested on Steve's bicep. Steve circled Tony's wrist gently with his fingers and lifted his arm into his lap. He stroked up gently to the angry, red spot on the inside of Tony's elbow. A dark, nearly black bruise circled it, patches of skin still yellow from the medicated swabs. Steve's fingers hovered over the area, wanting to touch, to soothe, somehow, but his fingers were too big, too clumsy, his grip too tight, and he didn't know how to do this. "Did they twist it out with pliers or something?" he grumbled, lacking any real methods of comfort.

But Tony smiled, chuckled. "Nah they just pull it like ripcord," he quipped back.

Steve's knees tingled with vicarious discomfort. He growled softly again, and Tony nuzzled into his arm.

"It's fine. It was a bit rough getting it out, and they said the site might - uh -  _ weep,  _ but Steve?"

Steve looked up from where he'd been unable to draw his eyes away from Tony's mangled arm. "Yeah?"

"It's done." Tony's hand twisted so his fingers could wrap around Steve's knee. He squeezed. "Imaging all came back clear. I'm in remission."

The room spun violently around him, and Steve wobbled on the arm of the chair. "What? I thought - I thought we weren't going to know -?"

"I know." Tony beamed through the exhaustion that weighed his features down. "I thought so too, but I met with Dr. Rai, and he said he was calling it. The chemo worked."

Steve blinked his prickling eyes rapidly and ran his thumb around the edge of the purple skin from Tony's picc line. "You're really okay."

"I'm okay." Tony pressed a light kiss to Steve's shoulder then snuggled closer. Steve hooked the arm around Tony's shoulders and tucked him into his side. This was a bit new; taking care of Tony through his illness had brought them immeasurably closer together, but there were lines they hadn't crossed, areas they'd both been too scared to explore. And yet, it somehow seemed natural to bury his face in Tony's hair and breathe him in for a moment, lips inches from where a tumour had threatened Tony's life for so long.  

Maybe would again, someday, but for now -

"You're okay," Steve repeated.

"Cancer-free and chemo-free." Tony nodded, humming softly as he went limp in Steve's hold. "And very tired."

"Do you want me to leave?" 

"Absolutely not." Tony tipped his chin up and met Steve's eyes. "I never want you to leave."

A thousand questions welled up in Steve's mind -  _ What are we doing? Where is this going? What does this mean? Can I really stay forever? Do you love me? When did I fall in love with you, and how did I not notice? - _ but he dammed them back for later. "Okay." He kissed the top of Tony's head, more obviously this time, and Tony let out a soft, happy sigh. 

"Mind if I drift off, darling?" Tony mumbled.

"Course not." Steve rubbed his thumb on the outside of Tony's shoulder, holding him close. "I'll wake you in an hour."

"Thanks."

Steve dropped his eyes to Tony's arm again. He'd hated the picc line - a constant reminder that Tony wasn't well - but he found himself almost hating the angry wound it had left behind more. "I still don't like that they hurt you," he muttered. It wasn't just the line. He hated every time Tony had staggered off to heave his lunch into the toilet, every ache and pain, how he couldn't sleep, the way his skin became so sensitive to touch that just helping him stand made him wince and flinch away. He hated that Tony'd had to go through all of that, that Steve couldn't take the burden from him. He hated that to heal him, the doctors and nurses had needed to hurt him so badly.

"Remission…" Tony breathed, and Steve smiled, settling in to watch over him for his hour nap. 

He was going to send every doctor and nurse and  _ janitor  _ in that damn hospital a thank you card.


	35. Swipe Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is stuck on a long layover in an uncomfortable airport. He decides to go on Tinder to pass the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Cute, no-powers AU, Airports, Tinder, Sillines.
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> Rise posed [this prompt](http://arandomthot.tumblr.com/post/180603087865/this-had-the-potential-to-be-the-premise-of-a) in the MCU discord prompts channel and I've been feeling a bit word blocked so I decided to spill it out just to make something happen! Thanks to everyone on the server who explained how Tinder works, gave me ideas, and told me I couldn't do it so I'd have to. *muah*

Steve shifted in the hard, plastic chair, trying to find a way to sit that kept his suitcase close but didn't press his hip painfully into the metal arm dividing the seats. It was entirely unfair that they delayed flights by thirteen hours, didn't offer a hotel voucher, and then had nowhere comfortable to sit in the whole damn airport.

But he couldn't afford a night in the far too swanky airport hotel after having spent every cent he'd saved on this plane ticket, and home was still a long way off, so he'd have to settle for a hard, plastic chair and a ten dollar cookie.

The only mercy was that he'd snagged a seat by one of the few outlets scattered around the gate, and though it meant he had to twist a bit to the right to keep his cable slack, it also meant that he wouldn't be reduced to watching the reruns of a cheery morning show set three states over that seemed to be playing on the TV, under an overlay of the worsening weather that had trapped him here in the first place.

He started with his email, but despite multiple refreshes, there was nothing new. Twitter, Facebook, and reddit all failed to offer anything interesting, so Steve's thumb automatically jumped to Tinder next. It was always interesting, seeing what was out there in a completely new city, and Chicago was no different. Even though Steve wasn't particularly interested in hooking up tonight - it'd get him out of the airport but it'd be pretty awkward to maneuver with his bags - it was mildly amusing to flick through the men and women on offer and get a sense of the city he hadn't seen more of than lights from an airplane window.

At first, he just read the bios and laughed at the pics then swiped left, but as boredom set in, he swiped right on a few, hoping for at least some conversation to help pass the time.

Zack, 28, had all 6 photos, all of which featured him on a skateboard, and from angles that reminded Steve of commercials on MTV in the early 2000s. He was kind of hot, but in an utterly boring way, and Steve swiped left.

Next up was a thin, pale, shapely woman named Deborah, 31, sporting a fitted red dress. She was cute enough that Steve swiped right, but no message popped up.

Lillian, 26, had a pink stripe in her hair and a lip ring that made a throb of interested blood head south, but Steve couldn't bring himself to swipe right. He felt he'd mastered the one night stand in the few months since he'd started using Tinder, but there was something very "a lot" looking about Lillian. "Not ready for that…" Steve muttered to himself as he swiped on.

Brett was an immediate no, the popped polo collar enough on its own, but when matched with his Trump hat, Steve barely paused long enough to read his name.

The next few were a mix of soft yesses and hard nos, and still no messages from anyone.

He swiped again then squinted at the screen. A distinctly familiar face filled his screen, wearing dark sunglasses and sporting a carefully trimmed goatee. Instead of a name, he'd just written "You know who I am." The bio was empty and there were no other pictures.

Steve snorted. Wow. Did this guy really think people were stupid enough to fall for that? He could sort of understand snagging an insta model's pic, but that was _Tony fucking Stark._ Literally everyone knew him on sight. No one was going to believe that Tony Stark was on Tinder in Chicago.

Steve's thumb hovered over the picture. He was almost tempted to swipe right just to see what the catfish said, but he was too irritated by the idea of trying to scam people with someone else's face, and he didn't want to give this jerk the satisfaction of thinking he'd tricked someone. He probably had one of those auto-swiping robots or something set up to try and match with the whole damn city.

Steve swiped left a little too violently.

"Ouch," said a voice from directly behind him. "Hard no on that one, huh?"

Steve spun in his seat, clutching his phone to his chest purely on instinct, nearly tumbling to the ground when his foot caught in the strap of his backpack. "What?!" He opened his mouth again to go off about creeping up behind people and reading over their shoulder when something clicked together in his mind. The sunglasses weren't there, but the beard was, and the smile, and - "Um."

The man smiled. "Hi."

"Sorry," Steve felt the need to say. He lifted his phone. "I mean - I thought it was a catfish…"

Tony held up a sleek, state-of-art StarkPhone, and Steve could see his own face smiling back from his tinder profile. "Nope. Really me."

"Well. Shit."

"Tony, actually." He held a hand out, twisting awkwardly to reach over the seat backs between them.

"Steve." Steve shook his hand. He was blinking too much.

"I know." Tony smirked. He looked down at his phone and read, "Steve, twenty-eight, artist, loves dogs, hates bullies, works out, thinks he wears a size small and a half despite having pecs that could power a small nation."

"Uh." Steve blinked. "I'm pretty sure that's not what my bio says."

Tony winked. "I paraphrased. So… was that left because you shop HammerTech or because you think I'll be selfish in bed? Cause I promise, Steve, I'm a giver."

Steve swallowed heavily. Tony Stark was hitting on him in an airport in Chicago. That didn't seem like a thing that happened. That couldn't be happening. "This isn't happening," Steve informed him.

"Oh." Tony frowned and shifted away a bit. "Sorry. I was just teasing, honest. I didn't mean to bother you."

"What?" Steve sat up and shoved his suitcase away to give himself some breathing room, since he certainly wasn't getting any air on the side Tony was occupying. "Oh! No. No, I didn't mean _this -"_ he gestured between them "- isn't happening. I meant - uh - huh? What is my life right now? What is Tony Stark doing on Tinder in an airport at ten o'clock on a Wednesday?"

"Hoping to find someone to share the incredibly exorbitant fruit platter I'm guessing the airport hotel is going to send up when they realize I'm staying in one of their rooms tonight?"

"Why?" Steve spluttered. "Don't you have your own plane?"

Tony laughed. "Private planes get grounded when Toto finds himself out of state too, you know."

"Oh, huh. Guess I never thought about that before."

"Limo service had already dropped me off when they starting murdering flights left and right and I thought I might as well get a room at the hotel here, rather than call the car again only to drive an hour back to yet another identical hotel. But then I thought, why not find some company?"

Steve traced the lines of Tony's lean body, catching the way he was twisted towards him, his back to the customer service desk, chest open towards Steve. He still had Steve's profile up on his phone, which he was cradling in his lap, and there was something hesitant and hopeful in his smile.

"I didn't think it was really you," Steve explained again, holding up his phone. "I thought it was a fake profile."

Tony's smile softened. "I'm sure a lot of people do. Not much I can do about that."

"Well, you can sneak up behind people and see which way they swipe." Steve smirked.

Tony laughed. "I swear I was just leaning over to ask if I could share your outlet, when I saw you had my face on your phone. I don't normally go around creeping on people's phones. Not much, anyway."

Steve propped himself up on one knee and folded his arms over the back of the seat. "Still want to share my outlet?" He bit his lip and raked his eyes down Tony's body. He really was even hotter in person, and that was saying something.

"Or we could share something else," Tony shot back, heat flickering in his eyes.

Steve smiled and leaned over the back of the seat. He pressed his finger to the screen of Tony's phone and pointedly swiped right on his own face then stood and held out a hand, palm up this time. Tony took it.

Maybe a long layover wasn't so bad after all.


	36. Don't Text Your Ex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Shit. I feel like texting my ex," he sighed to no one.
> 
> "Don't text your ex," three voices echoed in perfect harmony from the stalls behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to be a ficlet roll? I saw [this tweet](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/Doa6RR_VsAAxnjZ.jpg) and my head combined it with [sabre's MIT!Tony post-breakup ficlet from this morning](https://sabrecmc.tumblr.com/post/181436475298/its-3am-xmas-and-mit-student-tony-stark-drunk) and this happened. 
> 
> Thanks Rise, Kitty, Places, and anyone else in chat who was in there poking around. You guys are the best!
> 
> Post-Breakup, Hopeful Ending, Young Tony, Nat, Clint, Bruce.
> 
> Rated: T

Tony peered at himself in the bathroom mirror. There were dark smudges under his eyes and the pounding of the bass through the club wall was rattling something in his chest that he hadn't known was loose. He stuck his tongue out; it was stained green.

"Shit. I feel like texting my ex," he sighed to no one.

"Don't text your ex," three voices echoed in perfect harmony from the stalls behind him.

"Is there a girl in here?" he asked.

A toilet flushed. "The line for the ladies was too long." One of the stalls opened, and a woman in black leather with hair redder than Pepper's clicked out on stilettos of death. She turned on a tap and started washing her hands. "Don't text your ex."

Tony sighed and leaned against the counter. "Yeah? Yeah, you're probably right. I mean, we broke up for a reason, right?"

The woman blinked at him. "I don't know, did you?"

"Yeah."

"Why'd you break up?" called one of the voices from the stalls. 

Tony shrugged even though the guy couldn't see him. "It just wasn't the right time, I guess. He was looking for something serious, wanting to settle down and, you know, I'm only twenty-two, I wasn't ready for that. Gotta sow my oats and all that."

Another flush and a man appeared. "Do you, though?" His lip curled up.

"You're one to talk," the woman snapped back. "You're nothing but wild oats, Clint."

Clint, apparently, shrugged. "Just saying, you don't  _ have  _ to sow anything you don't want to. But don't text your ex."

"Why not?"

"When does texting an ex ever go right?" The last stall banged open and another guy with soft, curly brown hair walked out. He turned the tap on. "There's only two ways texting your ex can go: either he's happy to hear from you, and you get to go through all the heartbreak of your relationship all over again, or he's not, and you get to enjoy the lovely feeling of rejection. Don't text your ex."

Tony considered the three strangers standing around him like the ghosts of break-ups past, present, and future, arms crossed and glaring. "You guys are probably right."

"Why do you even want to text him?" Clint asked.

"Yeah," the woman added, "if it's just for a hookup, we can wingman you out there. Plenty of hotties looking for sheets to get tangled in."

"Or, if it's cause you want to have it out with him," the fluffy-haired guy went on, "it's not a good idea to do that while you're drunk. You'll say something you regret, I guarantee."

Tony dropped his eyes to the floor and scuffed his toe on the damp tile. Why did he want to text him so badly? It wasn't just for a hook up, and he didn't want to yell at him. "I miss him," he said in a soft voice.

The three stayed silent, staring at him with matching expressions of soft sympathy.

"I think breaking up was a mistake," Tony went on. "I still love him, like crazy, and I never really told him how I felt, how important he was to me. I think he thought I was just fleeting, untetherable or something, and as soon as I panicked and tried to run, he just bolted in the other direction. Cause he'd been waiting for it or something, expecting it."

"Yeah."

"Kinda wish I'd told him how I felt when I had the chance. But I'm sure he wouldn't take me back. I sure wouldn't give me a second chance to fuck everything up."

Clint reached out and patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. You'll find someone else. It hurts for a while, but you'll get over it, move on. Hot guy like you has plenty of options."

"Delete his number," the woman advised.

"I'll buy you a drink?" the other guy offered.

Tony smiled but shook his head. "Nah. Thanks, guys. I know you're right, I'm just - yeah. Thank you. I'm just going to sit for a minute, cool off." He hopped back up onto the counter and the three bathroom angels shared a look.

"You sure you're okay?" the woman asked.

"I'm okay. I'll get a cab home in a bit." He waved his phone in their direction. "Thanks. You guys saved me from doing something really stupid. Wouldn't be able to take that back. Best I just… move on."

The woman stepped forward and wrapped Tony in a quick but firm hug then turned to go. "Take care of yourself."

"Goodnight." They all filed out.

Tony fiddled with his phone for a moment, kicking his legs back and forth where they hung off the counter. The thing was, to move on you needed closure, and they'd never really had that. He opened his contacts and scrolled down. One text wouldn't hurt… just to - to  _ tell  _ him _.  _ That they didn't have closure. Yeah. Cause what if he was feeling the same way? That wouldn't be fair. He should be moving on too.

_ We never got closure.  _

Tony hit send before he could stop himself. He had just enough time for the gravity of what he'd done to twist his stomach into a knot when a familiar soft chime came from the last stall of the row, the only other closed door. He'd thought he was alone. He looked back down at his phone.

_ Delivered.  _ The text said.

"Steve?" Tony croaked out, his voice pack-a-day rough all of a sudden.

The final stall down clicked then slowly swung open, and there was Steve, in all his glory, cheeks pink and eyes downcast. "Sorry," he said immediately. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. I was already in here when you came in, and I was just going to wait for you to leave, to not bother you, but then you started talking, and it was too late to appear, and… yeah… Sorry."

Tony swallowed back rising bile. "You heard all that?"

Steve's gaze rolled up from the floor to meet Tony's. His eyes were bright. "Yeah… Did you really - I mean, do you -?" He looked back down at his phone. "We didn't, did we?"

Tony shook his head.

"I still love you too," Steve choked out on a pained-sounding gasp. "I didn't want to break up. I just - I didn't know what to do to keep you, and I didn't want to try and fail, so I ran. I'm sorry."

"I didn't want to break up either. I didn't know how to be the guy I thought you wanted me to be, so I ruined everything on purpose before I could ruin it by accident." He swallowed heavily. "I'm sorry too."

Steve took a few tentative steps across the bathroom floor. "Could you - how drunk are you?"

Tony reeled at the change in a topic. "Uhhh, I don't know. A four?"

Steve snorted a laugh out then cut it off sharply, like he hadn't meant to let it escape. "Out of what?"

"I have no idea." Tony slid down off the counter to see if the room would stutter. It didn't. "Nothing a glass of water and some fresh air won't fix."

"Could I walk you home?" Steve asked tentatively. "If it clears your head enough, maybe we could have coffee, talk a bit? I feel like we have a lot to talk about. Closure… if nothing else."

Tony weighed his options. He knew his three guardian angels would tell him no, let Steve go, move on, but they didn't know. They didn't know the way Steve made Tony's heart feel like it was too big for his chest, the way he made him laugh, how they hated the same TV shows and loved the same music. They didn't know how well Tony's hand fit in Steve's when they walked down the street. He supposed Steve didn't know either, and it was probably time he did. 

Tony tucked his phone back in his pocket. "Okay. I'd like that."


	37. Good Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wow, Tony, you’re being so good for me.” Steve’s voice wrapped around Tony like a warm blanket, filled him up and flushed through his veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dom Steve, Sub Tony, Bondage, Gags, Orgasm Control, Praise Kink.
> 
> Rated: E
> 
> For anon for my Bday Prompt Party :)
> 
> (This was originally posted on tumblr, but was missed in the initial archiving of these, oops!)

“Wow, Tony, you’re being so good for me.” Steve’s voice wrapped around Tony like a warm blanket, filled him up and flushed through his veins. **  
**

Tony panted around the gag that stretched his lips wide and rolled his wrists in the restraints that locked behind his back. Steve’s big, hot hand stroked up the length of Tony’s cock again, and he moaned, spit dribbling freely down his chin.

“I know you can hold off a little longer, baby. I know you can.”

Tony swallowed heavily and worked his eyes open bit by bit until he found Steve’s soft, blue gaze blinking back at him. Though, there wasn’t much blue left with how blown-wide his pupils were. And it was  _Tony_  who made him look like that. He shifted his knees apart wider and arched his back, resisting the urge to thrust up into Steve’s hand.

He’d been here, kneeling on the bed, for days, weeks maybe, it felt like. Steve gripped his cock, Tony’s hands trapped behind his back, his jaw stretched open by the wide ball gag. And Steve had said,  _Don’t come, Tony,_  and Tony was a good boy, so he wasn’t going to come.

But it was getting harder and harder not to.

“Look at you.” Steve’s voice was like velvet, like dark chocolate or the smoothest scotch. Tony wanted to drown in it. “You’re so beautiful. And you’re being so good, so still. I can’t believe how good you are for me. I know you want to beg right now, you’re so hard and you want to come so badly, but you’re waiting because I asked you to, and I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.”

Tony blinked his eyes rapidly to keep tears from blurring his vision. It was so hard to hold off when pleasure was flushing through every nerve in his body, but he was making Steve happy. Nothing could touch that. He’d never come again if it made Steve happy.  _“Nuh,”_  he managed around the gag, and Steve’s other hand landed on his cheek, cupping his jaw. His thumb traced Tony’s stretched out bottom lip. He never slowed his steady, unrelenting pace, jacking Tony off expertly.

Tony’s jaw ached, his shoulders ached, his cock ached. But Steve’s free hand was petting all over him now, stroking down his neck, thumbing his nipple, then stretching wide and flat over his stomach.

“So beautiful,” Steve murmured. “I can’t believe this is all mine, but it is. Thank you, Tony.”

And it should have sounded cheesy or silly, but Steve was so beautifully earnest that all Tony could feel when that warm, soft praise slipped from his mouth was deeply, perfectly loved, in a way he never had before. It was almost too much.

Steve brushed an errant tear from Tony’s cheek then eased him down onto his back on the bed. Tony almost cried out around the gag with relief when two fingers pressed against the rim of his hole. Finding him still well-prepped from earlier, Steve let Tony’s cock go so it throbbed insistently against his stomach, and hooked both of Tony’s thighs to pull him up into his lap, shoulders resting back on the mattress.

“You’re going to take my cock so well, Tony. You’re so good for me. You’re going to wait, and then you’re going to come on my cock so I can feel how amazing you are when you clench down around me. So I can see you cover yourself in come. You’re going to do that for me, and I’m going to fill you up the way you need. You can do that, right?”

Tony nodded furiously. The rest of their bedroom had disappeared into a haze, and all that remained - in perfect, sharp focus - was Steve and what he wanted. Whatever he wanted.

Steve had been teasing him, stroking his cock, edging him, for so long that when the blunt head of his cock pressed against his hole, Tony had to tip his head back and pant heavily, hands clenched into fists where they were trapped behind his back, to stop from coming just from that.

“Hold on, baby,” Steve whispered, words tight with arousal. “You can do it.”

 _“Huuuuh,”_  Tony whined, writhing in place as Steve slowly impaled him on his cock. God, he was so big, stretched him so wide.

“Yeah, that’s it. Oh god.” Steve started thrusting like he’d wanted to take his time but he couldn’t hold back, and  _fuck_ , that was the best thing Tony had ever felt.

Steve was slick and hot and huge and every push deep inside Tony set off a new barrage of fireworks under his skin. As much as he wanted to watch, Tony’s eyes fell closed again as he arched back on the sheets, hips kicking up to meet Steve each time he bottomed out.

Each panted breath was a broken gasp now. He needed to come, he was going to come, but he needed permission. He hung on the very edge, grip slipping, keening and begging wordlessly around the gag, spit leaking out and streaking his chin and cheeks.

“Yeah,  _yeah._  God, you’re beautiful.” Steve was breathless now. “You need to come? You begging for me? You know I love that. What a good boy.” He thrust harder, punching a moan out of Tony. “Okay, baby, you can come. Come on my cock. Come on, Tony.”

 _Good boy_ , flickered down Tony’s spine, settled somewhere deep, and his grip slipped. He let go and plunged into pure pleasure, the world going white-hot blackout and then cutting into the fuzzy static of a missing radio station. He thrummed, free-floating and easy, distantly aware of Steve’s cock still plunging in him over and over as he pulsed over his own chest and stomach. Everything else was a sea of sensation he couldn’t put a name to.

“Oh, you’re so good.” Steve’s voice pulled him gently back. “Look at you. What a beautiful sight. Damn, I’m so lucky that you’re mine. So lucky.” Steve’s hands clenched tight around his hips. “So good for me -  _Tony -”_  Steve cut off with a groan and pressed deep inside Tony, pumping him full.

Steve always had a lot to give, filling Tony up so he dripped and spilled when Steve pulled free, but for now, Steve stayed buried deep inside him, folded over to press soft lips to Tony’s chest, locked tight. If Tony closed his eyes, breathed in the scent of sex and sweat and Steve, maybe this moment would go on forever. He was a good boy; he deserved it.


	38. So Much Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We're going to get so much shit from the others," Tony said, in between panted breaths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Allusions to Sex, Feelings, Confessions, Post-Sex Talk, Beginnings
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> Just a little thingy that fell out of my brain.

"We're going to get so much shit from the others," Tony said, in between panted breaths. Steve heard him shift on the sheets, groaning a little as they unstuck from his sweat-covered skin. 

"What?" Steve tried to prop himself up on one elbow, to get a better look at Tony from where he was sprawled across the foot of the bed, but his muscles refused to let him move. He flopped back down again. He still couldn't parse Tony's words. "What?"

"You know -" Tony waved a hand in the air "- they're always going on about how we should get together and this is inevitable and calling us Mom and Dad and all that. So when they find out it's true, they're going to give us so much shit."

That did get Steve up on his elbow. He frowned down at Tony - and god, debauched was a good look for him, all heaving chest and sticky skin and mussed hair. "This - you want them to find out? That's what this was - us getting together?"

Tony went preternaturally still. "Wasn't it?" He sat up too. "Shit, it wasn't, was it? This was just… this."

"I don't know." A wave of panic told Steve he should find his clothes and bolt, but he forced himself to stay where he was. "Was it?"

They stared at each other for a long time in tense silence then Tony burst out laughing. "Oh my god  _ we _ don't even know. They've been berating us for months to admit this thing and we don't even know if it's real. Did we just fall in bed together because they put the idea in our heads?"

"I have no idea." Steve hesitated for a moment then reached out and rested his hand on Tony's ankle. In the heat of the moment, it had been all rough kisses and a desperate search for more naked skin, but now that they were calm and sated, other things started crawling in to replace the spent lust. Affection? Fear? In equal parts. "I have no experience with relationships, Tony. I -" Steve pinched his lips closed.

Tony sat up further and leaned forward - and there had to be something said for the fact that they weren't scrambling for their clothes, right? Sure they saw each other naked all the time, changing for training, battles gone wrong, it happened, but voluntary like this? Steve found his eyes drawn down to Tony's lap, to test the theory more than anything, but Tony didn't cover up or shy away. Every inch of him was beautiful; that was no surprise.

Tony reached out and his hand landed on Steve's cheek, cupping his jaw, he drew him in for a kiss, soft and sweet this time instead of wild and claiming. Steve tipped into it, easing the warmth off of Tony's lips and onto his own. When Tony pulled back, Steve followed for a moment, needing to catch his balance on the mattress or risk faceplanting into Tony's crotch.  _ Ahem.  _ Again…

But Tony caught him and tipped them both over, letting Steve sprawl across his chest. "It's scary," he murmured.

"There's a lot that could go wrong," Steve said. "We could unbalance the team, hurt each other. Whether it ends after a few weeks or a few years… it's scary."

Steve could feel Tony nod then his nose nuzzled into his hair. "Is scary the only thing that's been holding us back all this time?"

Steve breathed in the scent of Tony's skin under his cheek, felt the warmth of his arms around him. He dug deep into his heart to find all the corners that Tony occupied and when he added them up, well, it was a lot of square footage. "Yeah. Yeah, for me. I think so. Just scared." He pushed up with one arm so he could look down at Tony. "You know I'll always love you. You're my best friend. Maybe that's enough?"

Tony scanned his face for a long time, maybe searching his own core for the shape of Steve inside him, looking for room to wedge in a relationship of  _ more  _ into what was already a tight space. Then his expression shifted and Steve braced himself. "No. Fuck it. It's not enough, not for me. I want it - you. They're right. They weren't always right, I think waiting was good, what we needed, but I can see how this will play out, I think. I can taste our future. It's worth it. Fuck scary, we're superheroes, we deal with scary every day."

Steve felt a smile inch up his tight throat towards his lips. "And… maybe it won't end."

Tony pulled him down again, rolling so they lay side by side, legs tangled. "Maybe it won't end. But if it does, I think it'll still be worth it."

"Me too." Steve caught Tony in another soft, slow kiss and time slipped away, each press of their lips feeling like it ought to be the last, until Tony offered another one and such a sweet offer couldn't be rejected.

Eventually, though, they faded, shifting down into a puddle; noses touching, bodies entwined, they sunk into the togetherness. The edges of the world fuzzed, and in the wake of the receding panic, Steve felt sleep roll in.

Then Tony smiled - not within Steve's line of sight, but he could feel the shape of it against his shoulder - and Steve woke enough to vow to be the cause of that shape as often as he could be.

"They're going to give us so much shit, though."

Steve smiled too. He wasn't wrong.


	39. Under My Umbrella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve popped the snap on his helmet strap and tugged it off. He ran dirty fingers through his hair, combing it back from his face. Sirens echoed down the street, but it was a comfort instead of a stressor. Sirens meant two things to the Avengers: either they were about to be called, or they'd just finished the battle and emergency crews could finally move in and start putting things back together. Even among the dust and debris, the damage and chaos, it was a profound relief to hear the city whirr back to life around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yumi_Eleven and willidothefandango teamed up to add this awesome prompt to the MCU discord prompt feed (no doubt inspired by RDJ's recent umbrella post), and I needed a ficlet to flex my creative muscles, so I wrote it up for them! Thanks for the prompt <3 I'm not really sure when this is set, I think it works in a couple different ways, so go with whatever you want!
> 
> _"post mission, the avengers are tired and tony pops out of the armour to cordinate with some agents when it starts to rain. Steve sees tony standing there under the rain not seeming to notice and he stands next to him to shield him.  
>  Tony doesn't notice at first but then he sees steve and he grins when he sees him. "Aren't you a knight in shining armour roger, that's a cute use for your shield." "actually it's your shield, but i'm happy to hold it for you""_

Steve popped the snap on his helmet strap and tugged it off. He ran dirty fingers through his hair, combing it back from his face. Sirens echoed down the street, but it was a comfort instead of a stressor. Sirens meant two things to the Avengers: either they were about to be called, or they'd just finished the battle and emergency crews could finally move in and start putting things back together. Even among the dust and debris, the damage and chaos, it was a profound relief to hear the city whirr back to life around them.

Steve scanned his teammates one-by-one, unable to fully relax until he knew each one of them was okay. Bruce was himself again, wrapped in a blanket, Natasha's hand resting on his forearm, not gripping, just supporting. She had a bruise blooming across her cheek, but her gait was clear and she stood tall and comfortable: no injuries. 

Clint was sitting on the edge of a SHIELD van with Coulson, pointing at a paper attached to a clipboard in Coulson's lap. He had to be fine or Coulson would never let him do After Action. 

Thor was helping support crews move a heavy-looking steel girder. He was fine - he was always fine.

Tony - where was Tony?

Steve picked his way through the broken bricks and cracked sidewalk tiles until he made his way around the SHIELD van that had parked across the street. Last he'd seen Tony, he'd been heading for the barricade. As he rounded the corner, Tony came into view, and Steve let out a tense breath. He was still in the armour - which was frustrating, because it made it hard to tell if he was injured or not - but the helmet was peeled back, folded down to reveal wild brown hair, and, thankfully, no blood. Tony was talking animatedly with two police officers who were nodding and pointing down the street, perhaps asking questions about the structural integrity of the buildings next to the one that had partially collapsed. That was Tony, helping wherever he could. 

Steve's stomach fluttered with the butterflies that had been bursting to life every time he looked at Tony these days. And it seemed like maybe? Just maybe, Tony had been feeling them too? There were looks, glances that caught Tony's eye on him. He'd look away sharply and perhaps, just a hint of a blush would bloom across Tony's cheek. 

At first, it had been terrifying, the thought that their camaraderie, their partnership, could grow into something more. What if it ruined the team? What if it drove a wedge between them? Steve had spent more than a few nights lying awake, fretting. But over time, his feelings shifted. The affection - love, even - he felt for Tony felt good, like a warm candle in his chest, flickering away and keeping him in the light. He was drawn to the other man, all the time, and to his immense relief, Tony didn't seem to mind, welcomed him into his space. He couldn't imagine life without Tony. Even if nothing ever came of his crush, he'd happily stay in Tony's orbit for as long as he could.

Steve made his way down the street to where Tony was talking with the police, politely staying off to the side and letting them talk, but unable to resist raking his eyes over Tony's body, looking for damage to the suit, damage to the man inside. But the red and gold of the armour was unblemished and Tony was moving easily and comfortably, gesturing wildly when he talked and shifting his weight from foot to foot without a hitch.

The last burden of the battle evaporated from Steve's shoulders and he let out a soft sigh. His team was okay. They'd saved the city once again. Everything was okay.

Tony was okay.

A fat raindrop landed on the end of Steve's nose and made him startle back, wiping it off with his dirty glove and likely smearing even more grime over his face. He tipped his face up to the sky, only to catch another drop on his cheek. The heavens rumbled. Steve glanced over at Thor, but he was too busy helping clear debris to be responsible. Tony didn't seem to notice, still talking, even as the clouds opened up and rain started to pour down, soaking the street. Tony's hair started to stick to his forehead in wet clumps, but still the helmet stayed down, leaving him exposed to the elements.

It was more instinct than anything. Steve lifted the shield up and stepped forward, leaning in to hold it flat over Tony's head and keep the rain out of his eyes while he worked. There wasn't much Steve could contribute to the conversation, and even he had to admit that he was too exhausted from the fight to be much help clearing the street. But he could offer this.

Steve waited quietly while Tony finished his conversation, tucking up close enough that the raindrops stopped tickling his nose, though he could still feel them sliding down the back of his collar. Tony didn't seem to notice, fully absorbed in the task at hand, and that was Tony through and through. Sometimes Steve worried the lab would catch on fire and it would all be down to DUM-E and his extinguisher while Tony continued to tinker away, oblivious.

Steve was smiling softly at that, eyes turned down to the wet concrete when Tony turned sharply and nearly collided with Steve's chest. Steve snapped his eyes up, biting his lip to reel the silly smile back in, but Tony tipped his chin up to stare at the underside of the shield, held out between his head and the rain, and one of his own bloomed slowly across his lips. He didn't step back.

"Well, aren't you my knight in shining armour, Rogers?"

Steve tried to hide the way he was vibrating at how close Tony was, almost tucked up into his arms. If he leaned forward, just a little bit… "You're the one in shining armour," he shot back, not sure if his voice was shaking or not. He tried to smirk. "Didn't want it to rust."

"My hero, then," Tony said softly, and his smile hadn't faded, only grown. "That's a creative use for your shield." 

"Well, technically, it's your shield." Steve swallowed, his eyes flicking down to Tony's lips without his permission. He tried to drag them back up to Tony's eyes, but they were stuck, glued to the slight peek of tongue that poked out between Tony's teeth. "But I'm happy to hold it for you."

Tony reached up, the armour melting away from his hand, and brushed his thumb across Steve's cheek, wiping away an errant raindrop that had snuck down from Steve's wet hair. Tony's hand was soft on his skin, and it hovered there, fingers lightly cupping his jaw. He pressed into the touch, sure his heart was pounding so loudly Tony would be able to hear it. 

Tony's eyes flicked to the side where their team was gathered, and Steve prepared to feel him pull back, move away. This wasn't something they were ready to share with the others, only just barely beginning to share it between themselves. But Tony  _ winked  _ of all things, then reached up and grabbed the edge of the shield with his other hand. He tugged it down until they were huddled behind it, the wall of the alley on one side - the police officers having left long ago while Steve was busy daydreaming about the close warmth of Tony's body - the shield blocking them from the view of the other Avengers. Tony rocked forward and pressed his lips softly to Steve's, simple and chaste, but warm and soft and laced with gentle promise.

Steve couldn't breathe. His heart stopped its pounding. Everything froze, and he and Tony were all that existed, in the quiet private place between the brick wall of the alley and the shield. There was no rain, no battle, no ache in Steve's left ankle where a flying brick had tripped him up. Tony stopped time, curled up against Steve's chest, and their brief first kiss lasted a lifetime.

"Thank you," Tony whispered when he pulled back, too fast, too soon, breaking the spell they'd fallen under. His lips brushed Steve's when he spoke, like a second kiss.

Steve let out a shaky breath, tipping in to rest his forehead against Tony's for a heartbeat. They didn't have time for anything more, right now. There was work to be done, debriefs and SHIELD meetings, After Action reports and getting his crew back to the tower and making sure they really were all in one piece. And there was so much he and Tony had to talk about, first. But Steve snatched this one short moment and held onto it as tightly as he could. They would have time, later, he would make sure of it. For now, all he could offer was protection from the rain. "Always," he said, and Tony's smile glowed brighter than the arc reactor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


	40. Some Bunny Like You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Rated: T, fluff, silly, Easter fic, bunny!Steve, tail and ears, lusty Tony, happy family Avengers.
> 
> For my bday prompt party, for anon who wanted: steve suddenly has bunny ears and a bushy bunny tail. tony really really wants to touch his tail (and maybe some other things too)
> 
> Thanks for the prompt anon! I couldn’t help but do this one for Easter. I got a bit cheeky with it; I hope you don’t mind :P

Tony shifted the basket higher up on his arm and tried to keep his pasted on smile from shifting into something R-rated.  _ This is for the kids  _ he kept reminding himself. The kids. On Easter. With Captain Hopper, the Easter supersoldier. Or something.

When the hospital asked the Avengers to come help the kids with their annual Easter egg hunt, Tony had thought nothing of it. It was the kind of gig they did all the time, whenever they could, to use their celebrity to bring some light into dark corners. It always felt a bit odd - how was it that Tony somehow had the power to make some stranger smile that wide? But if he'd been blessed with celebrity status of the positive kind, he was going to use it to the best of his ability.

Steve, on the other hand, was hilariously awkward around the kids. He loved them and wanted to be there, making them laugh and clap their hands together, but he'd spent so little time around kids growing up, and was so constantly terrified of misusing his serum-powered strength, that he never seemed to know what to do when they hugged him or tugged on his sleeves.

But let it never be said that he didn't go into this sort of thing whole hog.

Or, uh, whole hare, as the case may be.

"One of your ears is flopping," Natasha said, righting the band on Steve's head.

"Thank you," he said, all seriousness, and Tony bit his tongue. Okay so  _ maybe  _ the whole playboy bunny thing had had a bit of a formative effect on Tony. Maybe there was something irresistibly sexy about a hot man with bunny ears and a tail. But Tony could restrain himself, especially since they were going to a kids' hospital. He could.

Steve bent over to pick up his basket, and the fluffy white tail pinned to the back of his pants drew Tony's eye.

He  _ could.  _

Steve straightened and shot Tony a smile, and Tony hastily started adding eggs to his basket, focusing on anything besides the way one of Steve's long white ears was starting to flop over in the middle again. The pink satin lining looked so soft; Tony wanted a handful of it.

"Ready?" Steve asked, suddenly beside Tony.

"Ready," Tony croaked. "Let's hop to it!"

Half the team laughed and half the team groaned. In the car, Tony carefully put Natasha and Bruce between himself and Bunny Steve, not trusting his hands not to wander. The hospital staff was over the moon to see them, hustling them to the play room where they'd set up the egg hunt. The kids that could leave their rooms were gathered together, some in wheelchairs, many with face masks on, a few on oxygen, but every face lit up with a smile when the Easter Avengers came in. 

When they'd shaken every hand and handed out all the eggs in Clint's basket - and each kid had a chance to pick up Steve's shield (a lightweight mockup Tony had made for PR) - the gang split up and visited the kids who couldn't leave their rooms, handing out candy and toys and hugs, taking selfies, and making days.

At the end of it all, Tony was so tired, and so happy, he'd forgotten about Steve's tail - until they got back to the tower. But before he could get a handful, Steve slipped away with Natasha to take Easter pictures for their social media accounts, and Tony was pulled into cooking with Bruce.

At dinner, Steve had taken off the bunny costume, and Tony did his best to hide his disappointment. Eating all together, laughing and sharing jokes as a team, lit something warm deep in Tony's chest. This was family. This was happy.

Clint and Thor did the dishes while Bruce and Natasha argued over the TV remote. After packing up the leftovers, Tony looked around and realized Steve was missing. He said his goodnights then took the elevator up to the penthouse. The apartment was calm and quiet, but when he opened the bedroom door, a warm light was on, and Steve was sprawled across the bed. He put his book down and smiled at Tony. All he was wearing was a pair of dark blue boxers.

And the ears.

"Shit."

Steve chuckled. "I saw you looking."

"But I was being so subtle." Tony walked up to the edge of the bed and reached out to tweak one of the ears crooked. He could feel his cheeks heating. "You just look so damn cute like this."

Steve stretched out then rolled over, propping his chin on his pillow. Tony traced the long lines of his perfect back, down to where he'd stuck the tail to his boxers. He couldn't help reaching out and finally grabbing a handful of the white fluff, fingers grazing Steve's skin. Steve reached up and grabbed Tony's collar then tugged him down into a searing kiss. "Hoppy Easter,"' he whispered, grinning.

"Oh, you are going to pay for that one!"


	41. A Good Night's Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stay?” Tony asked, grinning up at Steve, and Steve’s heart skipped a beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Fluff, Adorable Nonsense, Sleep Habits, Domestic, Established Relationship, Early Relationship, Love
> 
> For my bday prompt party - for bardingbeedle who asked for: "please write stevetony having cute quirky sleeping habits if you wanna and have the time"
> 
> <3

“Stay?” Tony asked, grinning up at Steve, and Steve’s heart skipped a beat.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Tony stretched out long on the bed like a cat then curled up against Steve’s side. He smelled good, like sweat and his cologne. They’d been dating for a few weeks, starting out as actually dating, then graduating into kissing, and finally this - falling into bed together. It felt good, right, safe, but Steve had been expecting to get dressed and go with a goodnight kiss.

“It’s not too soon?”

Tony petted a hand down Steve’s bare stomach. “Not for me. Won’t be offended if you leave, though. Invitation is open and open-ended. But if you’re heading home, I do demand a pre-bed snuggle first.”

Steve opened his arms, and Tony flowed into them, sprawling out across his chest. He chuckled. “You’re so tactile.” He bent and ruffled his nose through Tony’s hair.

“Well, you’re very touchable.”

Steve was lured back into kissing him, and the longer he had Tony in his arms, the harder the thought of leaving him here and going up to his own lonely bed was. “I’ll stay.”

“Really?” Tony brightened. “Awesome. I’ll order us a really fancy breakfast in the morning. We can eat it naked.”

Steve laughed, Tony bouncing a little as his chest rose and fell. “Alright, perfect. I just - uh - I have to run upstairs. Brush my teeth and stuff.”

“I have spares.” But Tony must have seen something in Steve’s face because he nodded and kissed him on the end of his nose before rolling off. “Meet you back here.”

“Alright.” Steve managed to drag himself out of Tony’s bed and make the long trek up to his own apartment. He changed into his pjs while brushing his teeth, washed his face, then paused in front of his bed. Tony only had a light duvet on - maybe Steve should bring a heavier quilt of his own? But that would be weird. What if Tony took it as an insult? That his bed wasn’t good enough? It just seemed so… sparse.

He turned off all his lights, tucked his phone in his pocket, and went back down to Tony’s apartment. He let himself in, feeling a little thrill at that, and made his way to the bedroom. Tony wasn’t there, but the water was running in the ensuite, so Steve plugged his phone in on the bedside table and lay down, pulling the blankets up over him. They were tucked tightly under the edge of the mattress and it took some wiggling to even get down under them in the first place. They were smooth and taut, and it felt like Steve had too much airspace on either side of him, chilled and claustrophobic. Like a grocery store sandwich, covered in plastic wrap.

Tony appeared a moment later, clicking off the bathroom light as he sauntered in, still naked. He peeled up the covers then chuckled. “You didn’t have to get dressed, babe. It’s just us.”

“I - uh - I just feel more comfortable sleeping in pjs. Sorry.”

“No, no, that’s okay. I want you to be comfortable here.” Tony crawled in bed and pressed up against Steve. “Mmm, warm.” He kissed him soundly then rested his head on Steve’s chest. Steve wrapped an arm around him and tugged him closer.

“God, this is really nice, Tony. Thank you.” He’d never slept with someone like this, safe and easy and loving.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Steve woke up a few hours later in the pitch black, heart pounding, to a voice in his ear.

“You have to twist it.”

“What?”

“You have to  _twist_ it.”

Now that he was properly awake, Steve realized the voice belonged to Tony. He blinked in the dark until he found Tony’s face, eyes still closed, concern furrowing his brow. “Tony?”

“No. I can’t move that. It’s too late. And there are chopsticks everywhere.”

Steve snorted out a laugh. “Tony do you talk in your sleep?”

“And why shouldn’t I?” he said haughtily. “It’s a living.”

Steve laughed silently, not wanting to wake Tony, but knowing he was shaking the bed. He couldn’t help it, though. There was a petulant sort of softness in Tony’s sleep-voice, and it was too adorable. Steve shifted around under the too-tight covers to pull Tony closer. “Hey, Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you have a nice time on our date tonight?”

“Well,” Tony said thoughtfully, and Steve bit back another laugh. “It was good, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t like mushrooms so the forest was a bit overwhelming, but you get the idea. At least the caterpillar wasn’t there. Three is not a crowd, it’s a rave.”

Steve smiled into the dark. He wondered how many people knew that Tony talked in his sleep, if he always had or if it developed later. He was glad Tony was close enough with him to let his guard down like this. It felt like owning one of Tony’s little secrets, something precious to hold and keep.

Two hours later, it was no longer adorable.

“Manuuuuufacturing…” Tony sing-songed. “Time to get to work.”

“Tony, I really need to sleep,” Steve whined. “Maybe it’s time to be quiet?”

“I can sleep at the end of the book, JARVIS, right now we’re go-go-go. Because deadlines. And potatoes.”

“Okay.” Steve sighed and sunk back into the pillow.

Tony continued his non-stop muttering, and Steve rolled away, as far as he could go, trapped under the sheets as he was, and pressed his pillow over his head. It didn’t help. He resigned himself to a sleepless night.

In the morning, Tony was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and so grateful to find Steve in his bed that Steve forgave him for the hard night that wasn’t really his fault.

A few days later, Steve invited Tony up to his apartment for a night in, watching movies, and let him know that he should bring his toothbrush and phone charger.

**

Tony entered Steve’s room with trepidation. As much as he wanted them to sleep side-by-side, last time they’d tried, it hadn’t gone very well. Steve had seemed happy at first, but as the day had worn on, it had become clearer and clearer that he hadn’t slept at all. Tony had pushed, and Steve had admitted that Tony’s sleeptalking had kept him awake.

He’d always talked in his sleep, but it rarely bothered people, especially since he didn’t usually start until several hours into the night and his bed partners were deeply asleep enough by then that they didn’t notice. But it seemed Steve’s super-hearing had a downside, and this was it.

They got ready for bed, putting on a movie before curling up together in Steve’s sea of pillows and blankets. Tony floundered for a bit, trying to get comfortable in the mess, but Steve pulled him close, head nestled against his chest, and he was finally able to drop off, fingers crossed that he wouldn’t start talking in a few hours.

Tony blinked awake in the dark, not sure what had woken him. The room was dark and quiet, save for the glow of the arc reactor and the soft sigh of Steve’s breathing. Steve, thankfully, was asleep, but Tony was - Tony was  _freezing_.

He rolled over and felt the cool waft of air that meant he’d come out from under the blankets. It wasn’t hard to believe, Steve slept in an unkempt mess of fabrics, all wrinkly and unpredictable. Tony sat up to try and sort out something to cover himself with, but there was nothing. Every single blanket and sheet from the bed was completely wrapped around Steve like a burrito, a tuft of his blond hair sticking out from the top, and he was snoring softly.

Tony huffed and grabbed a corner of a quilt, tugging until Steve rolled over towards him and released one end of it. Tony pressed up against him, trying to tuck the quilt around himself, but his feet stuck out and no manner of tugging, wiggling, or begging was giving him any more blanket.

He didn’t want to wake Steve, and he didn’t know his apartment well enough to know where he might find another blanket, so Tony curled up under his sad little corner and tried to sleep.

But he didn’t.

**

Between Avengers obligations and a disinclination on both their parts to risk another bad night, it was two weeks before they went to bed together again. After a lovely date, and an even lovelier post-date back at Tony’s place, Steve was too exhausted to find his way up to his room. Hand in hand, sweaty and sated, they drifted off to sleep together.

Steve woke up cold and shivery to Tony listing off endless streams of numbers, loud enough that presumably the JARVIS of his dreams could hear him. There was no way Steve was going to fall back asleep, but he didn’t want Tony to wake up alone, so he wrapped a blanket around his shoulders to stave off the chill and staggered out into the living room. He slumped down on the couch and was just starting to drift off when footsteps had him opening his eyes again.

“Was I talking?” Tony asked, leaning over the back of the couch.

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.”

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Steve asked, yawning.

“You took the blanket with you.”

He looked down at the duvet he’d wrapped himself in, realizing with a wince that it was the only one Tony had on his bed. “Oh. Sorry.”

Tony scrubbed a hand over his face. “This isn’t really working is it?”

Steve stood and wrapped the blanket around Tony instead. He pulled him close and kissed him softly. “It’s okay. I’ll just go back up to my room, and I’ll come down in the morning for breakfast.”

“Alright.” But Tony sounded disappointed, and he didn’t seem able to summon a smile. Steve was disappointed too. He wanted to fall asleep in Tony’s arms, feel the rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat. He liked the soft blue light of the arc reactor as it smoothed off the harsh shadow edges of the room. But if he couldn’t sleep there…

And yet, back in his own room was no better. Steve piled on all his blankets and before long he was warm again, but he couldn’t sleep. All he could think about was how Tony’s face had fallen when he left.

He lay there for a painful, sleepless hour before he decided it wasn’t worth it. He’d rather lie awake with Tony than be anywhere else in the world.

He pulled on a sweater then hiked back up the stairs to the penthouse. He was reaching for the doorknob, when the door flew open, and Tony was standing there, looking startled. “Hey,” Steve said. “You okay?”

“I was coming to find you,” Tony explained sheepishly. “Bed’s awfully big and empty without you. Even if I do have my blankets back.”

They met in the doorway, Steve’s arms wrapping around Tony’s shoulders, Tony’s around Steve’s waist. They burrowed in each other and stayed there for a long moment. “I miss you too much to sleep apart.”

“I miss you, too.”

“We can make this work, right?”

“Of course. It’s just an adjustment period. We’ll get there.” Tony tipped his chin up and pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips then led him into the apartment and shut the door.

It was early enough in the morning that they both knew neither would sleep any more, so they curled up on Tony’s couch together and watched infomercials, dozing in each other’s soft warmth.

By the next night, they had a plan.

**

Tony opened the doorway to a pile of blankets. He tugged at them until Steve’s face was revealed. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

They were both giddy and grinning, eager to be in each other’s arms again. Tony led the way into the penthouse, and Steve dropped his dragon’s hoard of soft fabrics on the bed. They’d already had their dinner date, and now it was time to put Operation Sandman into action.

“Hey, Steve?”

Steve turned from where he was shaking out blankets, and Tony dropped to one knee, a small case in his hands. Steve startled at first then burst out laughing.

“Steve - will you -” Tony wiped away an imaginary tear. “Will you sleep with me?” He popped open the case to reveal two bright orange earplugs, specially fabricated to fit Steve’s ears exactly.

Steve clapped and grinned then grabbed Tony’s hand and hauled him up to his feet. “It would be my honour.” He kissed him soundly, smiling against Tony’s lips, then dipped him down onto the bed and covered over him, hands wandering.

They brushed their teeth side-by-side in Tony’s bathroom, then changed, Tony out of his clothes and Steve into his pajamas. They divided up the blankets, half for Tony and half for Steve, and Steve tucked Tony’s tightly around him until he was very nearly swaddled, his feet firmly wrapped up snug. Steve kissed the end of his nose and pulled the Tony sushi roll up against his chest, his own side of the bed a mess of random quilts and sheets, piled on him haphazardly. “Goodnight, Tony,” he said.

“Goodnight.”

Tony used his one free arm to help Steve get his earplugs in. “Can you hear me?”

Steve smiled then shook his head. “What?”

Tony laughed and pulled his boyfriend down until they were wrapped up together in their silly little nest, Steve in his earplugs, Tony in his tight, taut blankets. Now, Steve could mess the rest up and throw them all over the bed, and Tony wouldn’t even notice. And Tony could babble on about whatever he wanted and Steve wouldn’t hear him.

Actually…

Tony dipped his face down into Steve’s chest. There was one thing he wanted to say - had to say - but he wasn’t quite ready for Steve to hear it yet. Maybe soon, but for now…

Tony tugged Steve closer in the dark of their shared bedroom, sleep already pulling at his eyelids heavily. “I love you,” he whispered into Steve’s skin.

They both slept all the way until morning.


	42. Free Hugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Free hugs, huh?" The kid adjusted one of his many bags. He looked equal parts exhausted and incredulous.
> 
> Steve spread his arms wide, holding his sign out to the side to free up the space between them. "Yup!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Serenity on the MCU discord who gave me the idea!
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> Tags: Fluff, Meet Cute, Platonic or Pre-Slash, MIT Tony, Free Hugs Guy Steve

Steve shifted the sign in his hands, stomping his feet a little to get blood flowing into them. He'd had more people take him up on his offer yesterday when it was warmer. Now, everyone was hunkered down into their jackets, motoring along, trying to get to class as dry and warm as possible.

Steve was making a mental note to record the weather as well, in case it factored into his results, when a kid with messy, brown hair, sunglasses - despite there being no sun at all - and four different bags slung over his shoulders, screeched to a halt and stared at Steve's sign. He looked too young to be an MIT student, but he had the perpetual air of stress around him that suggested he was. Steve wobbled the sign a little and tried to look inviting.

"Free hugs, huh?" The kid adjusted one of his many bags. He looked equal parts exhausted and incredulous.

Steve spread his arms wide, holding his sign out to the side to free up the space between them. "Yup!"

"I -" The kid's eyes cut away to the passing crowd then back to Steve. Steve gestured him in. He clearly wanted a hug, but his cheeks were pinking under his dark sunglasses. Steve's smile seemed to do it for him, finally. He shrugged and stepped closer, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist. Steve hugged his shoulders, pulling him close and giving him an extra squeeze. "Uh. Thanks, I guess," the guy said, as he hiked his bags up again and hurried off.

Steve stood on the patio until his alarm went off an hour later, then packed up his sign and hustled off to the T. While he rattled in the subway car on the way home, he dug his notebook out and checked off the boxes on his list. For the hundredth time, he rejoiced in his perfect memory. It let him run his experiment without trying to discreetly mark down the hugees with people watching. Fewer people would want one, probably, if they knew it was for his sociology class. He liked to think it brightened their day, though, even if it was all in aid of a credit. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more Steve thought he might still do it once in a while, even when his class was done. It shouldn't have been surprising how many college students were in need of a hug, but it tugged at his heartstrings when people burrowed in a little deeper or held him a little tighter.

So far, his days at BU were about the same as MIT, though today was a little lower, but that could be attributed to the weather.

The next day he was at BU, then back to MIT on Wednesday. He alternated his schedule each week so he did an hour and a half on two or three days for each school, and he tracked every hug he gave. He always felt a little more awkward at MIT, since he didn't know anyone there, but it also meant he didn't run into acquaintances from his own classes which had its own opportunities for awkwardness.

Except, apparently he did know someone, because he was only out for twenty minutes, when a familiar mess of dark hair and bookbags struggled down the opposite side of the street. Steve watched as the kid looked up, saw Steve, paused, then jaywalked, half a block down from where Steve was standing. He came right up to him this time and shrugged before opening his arms and letting himself be folded into Steve's hold.

"Have a good day!" Steve said, when he released him.

The kid looked startled for a moment then smiled softly, eyes dropping to the ground. "Thank you." He stepped away then paused, turned back. "You too."

Steve didn't see his repeat customer on Friday, but on Monday, just before his time was up, he appeared, hustling down to where Steve stood with his Free Hugs sign. "Hey!" Steve said, opening his arms.

The guy looked happier today, and he grinned as he stepped into Steve's arms and let himself be held for a moment. "Thanks." He shifted his bags. "You give really good hugs, you know. You should think about going pro."

Steve laughed. "Getting paid just takes all the fun out of something, though, doesn't it?"

The guy shrugged. "Maybe. I'd pay, though." He winked. "Anyway, thanks again, uh -?"

"Steve."

"Thanks, Steve. I'm Tony."

"Have a good day, Tony!"

Steve's experiment continued all semester. Tony wasn't his only repeat customer, but he was the only one that Steve knew by name, and the only one who sunk into Steve's hugs for a full breath, arms tight around his waist and face pressed into his chest. Tony seemed to _need_ the hugs more than anyone else who said, "for exam luck!" and laughed as they quickly pulled Steve in with one arm then released him again, or the shy ones whose friends pushed them towards him. Tony was always in a hurry, always stressed, always had at least three bags - heavy-looking bags - and his smile never reached all the way up to his eyes, at least Steve had never seen it do so, but they were usually covered by dark sunglasses, regardless of the weather.

Two weeks before his experiment was due to end, Steve hiked up the stairs to his usual spot to find that Tony was already there. It was a wet day, drizzly and chilly, and Tony was sitting on the top step, arms wrapped around his knees, bags in a halo around him, face tucked down and hidden behind his usual sunglasses. As Steve approached, he realized Tony was wet and shivering, hair plastered to his face in damp curls.

"Tony?"

Tony lurched up and wiped a hand over his cheek. "Hey, Steve. I - uh -" His voice hitched. "I wanted to get the freshest hug of the day so I got here before you opened." He stood there, looking small and a little broken, his endless bags a mess around his feet.

Steve smiled as warm as he could and opened his arms, drawing Tony in against his chest. He held him tightly, one hand coming up to cup the back of his head. "Don't worry, Tony, I always save the best one for you."

Tony wobbled a little against him, his shoulders twitching, and Steve peeled back and looked him in the face, frowning as he tried to see past the dark glasses. There was something more not-right about him than usual.

"Tony… are you okay?"

Tony opened his mouth then closed it again. He tugged his glasses off, but dropped his eyes to the ground between them. They were still toe to toe, and Steve had each of Tony's shoulders in his hands. "Um. No… No, I guess not. It's okay! I -" He looked back up at Steve and their eyes met. His lips wobbled, eyes going bright.

"Alright, I'm getting you coffee."

Tony blinked. "What?"

"You're wet and freezing, and you clearly need someone to talk to. Come to the student centre with me. Let me buy you Starbucks, please?"

Tony looked around them. "Don't you need to… um. Hug?"

Steve shrugged. "It's alright. One day off won't hurt. But I kinda think leaving you on your own might," he added softly.

"I'm okay," Tony said.

"It's okay to not be okay, you know. We don't have to talk. I just want you warm and dry."

Tony shrugged the same way he had when he'd first accepted Steve's hug offer. "I guess. If you don't mind."

"Course not, come on." Steve picked up two of Tony's bags then wrapped his arm around his shoulders and led him away. They hustled through the drizzle to the student centre and down to the Starbucks at the back. Luckily, it wasn't too busy and they found a quiet booth in the corner. They dumped their stuff then lined up. "What do you want?" Steve asked him.

Tony looked deeply uncomfortable. "You don't have to buy me coffee, Steve. I'm like, really rich."

Steve shrugged. "I don't care. It's the principle of the matter. I want to do something nice for you. Is that okay?"

"I guess. I'll have an Americano."

"I'm getting a brownie - do you want one too?"

"Okay." Tony brightened a little. "Thank you."

Steve ordered for both of them and when they had their coffee and their treats they settled down on either side of the booth. Tony picked at his brownie, forehead deeply furrowed. "Do you want to talk about it?" Steve asked.

Tony was silent for a long time then his eyes flicked up to meet Steve's. "I… someone died," he said quietly. "He wasn't my dad, but in some ways he was more a dad to me than my real dad. He raised me, mostly. I wanted to go home for the funeral but my actual dad said my studies were more important."

"Wow. I'm so sorry, Tony, that's awful. Surely you can just take a few days off?"

Tony shrugged. "Nah. It's - I'm doing three degrees at once," he said with sigh, as if he was tired of explaining it. "There's no time off."

"Holy shit, you're smart."

"Yeah…" He sipped his coffee.

"Strong too."

"Huh?"

Steve nodded. "Yeah. Must be. I mean you're obviously brilliant, and I'm sure you get that a lot, but lots of brilliant people don't do anything with it. To study as hard as you obviously are… that takes a lot of strength."

"Oh." Tony blinked at him then hurriedly took another sip of his coffee. "That's maybe the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"Then you need to hang out with nicer people, geez."

Tony smiled and shook his head. "So what's your story, Free Hugs?"

"Heh. Well, to be quite honest, it's a social experiment. I'm tracking the people who accept my hugs at both MIT and BU - I'm a sociology and history student at BU - and seeing what kind of correlations there are."

"Oh." Tony's cheeks flushed bright red. "Shit."

"Uh, yeah," Steve laughed. "Might have to cut your data. Bit of an outlier."

"Right. Hugs Georg, who lives in a cave and needs ten thousand hugs a day shouldn't have been counted," Tony grumbled, dropping his face down onto his folded arms.

"I… don't know what that means," Steve laughed. "Don't be embarrassed though. It's really nice to have a regular. Gets lonely out there with all those people walking by. Seriously." He reached out and hooked a knuckle under Tony's chin, drawing his face up again. "Don't be embarrassed."

"I'm seventeen," Tony blurted out. "I have like zero friends here cause everyone thinks I'm just a kid and no one wants me to go to their parties or anything. I started here last year, did half the credits I needed for undergrad and tested out of the rest. Now I'm doing three master's at once, and it's _awful._ Everyone I'm working with is in their mid-twenties. And all my friends from back home are still in high school. I'm really excited about what I'm working on, but… fuck, I'm just - I'm just -"

Steve reached across the table and gave Tony's chilled hand a squeeze. "Hey, I get it. I used to be really scrawny, really sickly. No one wanted to hang out with me either. It'll get easier, when you're a little older and there's not such a big gap. And hey, I have a few friends who are seventeen - I just turned nineteen, but my friend's sister, Natasha, is your age, and I love hanging out with her. You could come to our parties."

A smile ghosted across Tony's lips, but then it faded to a frown. "I don't need pity hang outs…."

"It's not. I like you. And hey, if we don't get along, then so be it. But if you don't give people a chance, you'll definitely not make any friends." It wasn't a lie, not even a fudging of the truth. Steve liked Tony. He was kind, and funny, and hard-working, and gave good hugs. Steve was pretty sure he'd only like him more, the more they spent time together.

Tony sighed with his whole body. "I guess. Fine. I concede your point. I'd very much like to hang out with you and your friends. Thank you."

Steve grinned. “Awesome. Gimmie your number.” He handed his phone over and Tony typed his number in, clearly holding back a grin of his own.

“I have to go to class,” he mumbled, cheeks pink again. “But this was really nice. Thank you.”

“It really was.” Steve stood when Tony did, but before he could slip away, Steve hooked his elbow and pulled him into another hug, warm and tight.  “I’m sorry about your friend who died.” Tony squeezed, burrowing into Steve and splaying his hands out flat on his back. They hung there, neither pulling away.

“You’re not on the clock,” Tony protested, pulling Steve closer.

“That’s alright.” Steve dropped his cheek to the top of Tony’s head. “This one’s on the house.”


	43. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Steeeve,” he tried instead, soft and sweet. He moaned. “I need you. Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for an anon on tumblr! 
> 
> Tags: sub!Tony, Dom!Steve, rimming, face sitting, bondage, overstimulation, coming untouched.
> 
> Rating: E

Tony shifted, making the chains holding his arms above his head rattle. He squeezed his fingers around the fabric straps locking his wrists to the chains and breathed out a shaky breath. “Any time now, Rogers,” he bit out, yelping when a hand smacked across his ass, leaving the skin stinging and sensitive. “Fuck.” **  
**

Steve didn’t say anything, but Tony could  _feel_ his self-satisfied grin. He loved reducing Tony to swear words, and god help him, Steve was damn good at it. Tony glared at the headboard in front of him, all he could see. Technically, he  _could_ turn around, but that would earn him at least another smack, probably worse, and as much as he loved testing his boundaries until they creaked, his ass was smarting now and he didn’t particularly want another.

“Steeeve,” he tried instead, soft and sweet. He moaned. “I need you. Please.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, Tony,” came Steve’s low rumble in reply. There was a smile in his voice, though, so Tony grinned and shifted around, spreading his legs wider and pulling his arms taut so his back arched prettily.

His cock ached, heavy and full between his legs, and he longed for a touch on it, needed to fill Steve’s hot length press inside him and his huge hand around his cock, stroking, pulling, gripping almost too hard, threatening that super soldier strength. He groaned, dropping his head down between his arms and tugging on the thick, fabric straps until his fingers tingled.

_Finally_ , Steve’s hand landed on his back and the bed dipped as he settled behind him. A single finger skated down Tony’s spine, drawing a shiver along with it. “You’re so beautiful,” Steve murmured, almost more to himself than to Tony.

“And horny,” Tony added pointedly. “Also very horny.”

Steve’s hands gripped his sides and twisted, guiding Tony around until he was facing Steve. The pull on his arms forced him to lean back a little, abs tensing to counteract it. Steve poked the inside of each of Tony’s knees until they were spread wide. He had the calm, contemplative look on his face that meant he was planning something that would make Tony scream, cry, come, curse, or all of the above. Steve smiled softly, eyes fixed on Tony’s bare chest. All of the above, then.

“Steve -” Tony started, but Steve shifted forward, rising up on his knees until they were chest-to-chest. He held a finger to Tony’s lips to silence him then replaced it with his lips, pressing a soft, almost chaste kiss there, belied by the fact that Tony was completely naked and chained up, and Steve had his shirt off and his pants unbuttoned, shamelessly tenting his underwear through the gap in his open fly.

“Shh. Tony, love, I know it’s hard for you, but you’re going to be good for me.” Steve spoke the words against Tony’s lips, breath hot. “I’m not going to stop until you come.”

“Not stop what?” Tony begged, almost shaking in his bonds. “Steve - Steve - not stop what - what are you - oh  _fuck_ -”

Steve slipped down onto his back and shoved his head between Tony’s knees, grabbing one in each hand and yanking him forward as far as the chains would let him go. Steve’s hands were iron clamps on Tony’s thighs, and he held him still as he thrust up to nuzzle into the cleft of Tony’s ass.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, Steve please, oh my god.” Steve’s hot tongue pushed up against Tony’s hole, and Tony jerked against the chains. That  _asshole_ wasn’t going to touch his cock, he was just going to - “Oh my god…”

Steve’s tongue circled Tony’s rim lightly, almost more of a tickle, and he breathed out hot hair on Tony’s sensitive skin. It was torture, caught between the unforgiving length of fabric and chain and the unrelenting grip of Steve’s hands on his legs. There was nowhere to move, but he needed more, needed everything.

Steve’s hands slipped back, parting Tony’s ass to let him dive deeper, licking harder now, then sucking, teasing Tony’s rim into softness. The pleasure that built was the deep, low, intense, almost painful kind, and Tony knew he was going to be sobbing, begging, before he came. It was futile to think that Steve might fuck him, might touch his cock, Tony knew he wouldn’t, and he was forced to sit there and take it while Steve licked him into a shaking mess.

Steve sucked, then lapped hard over Tony’s hole. He stretched him even wider then pressed the tip of his tongue inside, swirling around the edge and pressing into the slowly relaxing muscles. Tony’s cock throbbed with need, leaking pre-come that dripped down onto Steve’s chest and pooled between his pecs. Every swipe and press of Steve’s tongue drove another wave of tingling pleasure right out to the tip of Tony’s cock and vibrated there.

“Fuck, Steve, please, please -” Tony bit his lip to stop the words endlessly spilling out. He was rocking back and forth now, driving his ass over Steve’s face to find more friction. Instead of stopping him, Steve hummed, almost in amusement, but the vibration made Tony gasp and flinch, breaking into a moan.  _I’m not going to stop until you come._  Fuck - he needed to come like this, with Steve’s tongue inching deeper and deeper inside him, first hard and pointed then soft and soothing, but never relenting. The chains were so taut, Tony’s arms were aching, his fingers tingling with pins and needles, but he couldn’t relax, every muscle in his body screaming  _more more more._

Steve tugged him down and pushed in as deep as he could, thrusting in and out as he fucked Tony with his tongue, slipping out every few thrusts to lick around the rim again and keep Tony on the edge but unable to tip over.

Tony growled in frustration, jerking and writhing and grinding down on Steve’s face. “God, you’re such an asshole,” he whined. “Evil, horrible, terrible person. I’m - oh god, Steve, please, please, please.”

Steve hummed again, and Tony sobbed, twisting. Steve’s tongue pushed forward, deeper, and he pushed his chin up against Tony’s perineum, working his prostate from the outside. Tony’s cock swelled impossibly harder and leaked, two fresh waves of pre-come spilling over Steve’s pale skin. Steve’s fingers dug in harder and he started to rock Tony back and forth, thrusting with his tongue. Tony’s ass was wet and sloppy and so, so needy, and all he could do was hold the fabric straps and let himself be moved, eyes hot, and throat dry, and cock  _aching_  -

A new wave of pleasure surged up and peaked, holding, and Tony kicked his hips back and forth harder, chasing it. It didn’t break, building and building this time. “Oh fuck, Steve, yes, god, I’m going to come, please, please _uhhhh_  -” Tony ground down on Steve’s face, pulling hard enough on the chains to make the hooks in the wall creak and groan along with him. He was sobbing now, begging wordlessly, and Steve didn’t relent, didn’t slow down, and didn’t touch Tony’s cock.

But he didn’t need to. On the next thrust deep with his slick, wet tongue, Steve pushed Tony over the edge. He cried out as white-hot pleasure rocketed through him, starting low in his gut and shooting like fireworks up his spine. His cock throbbed and pulsed, spraying wave after wave of come across Steve’s chest and down to the waistband of his pants.

Steve didn’t stop, licking and sucking at Tony’s hole, until he was shaking and begging, his cock leaking one last drop of come as it throbbed in the air, untouched. Finally, Steve lifted, pushing Tony’s hips up, and slipped out from under him.

His lips were bright red and wet, and he was grinning, eyes dancing. Tony clamped his legs together and slumped down on the bed, still shaking. His hole was wet with Steve’s spit, clenching around nothing as he floated through the aftershocks. “Steeeve,” he whined, fingers opening and closing helplessly.

“See Tony?” Steve said softly, as he reached up to release the cuffs. He drew Tony down onto the bed and pulled him close. “You’re so good for me.”


	44. Firsts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve stretched out as far as he could without tipping the ladder, his stomach dropping a bit as his centre of gravity shifted dangerously far out. He scratched his pencil along the wall, tracing the edge of the projection. He could almost reach the far corner…
> 
> “Whoa!” Two strong arms caught his hips and settled him back on the creaking ladder. “Move the ladder, Steve. Please don’t christen our brand new house, only seven hours in, with a gaping head wound.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Skinny!Steve, fluff, domestic, no-powers AU, doggo, cuddles, seriously so fluffy, established relationship
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> For tonystarksnipples to cheer her up while sick.

Steve stretched out as far as he could without tipping the ladder, his stomach dropping a bit as his centre of gravity shifted dangerously far out. He scratched his pencil along the wall, tracing the edge of the projection. He could almost reach the far corner…

“Whoa!” Two strong arms caught his hips and settled him back on the creaking ladder. “Move the ladder, Steve. Please don’t christen our brand new house, only seven hours in, with a gaping head wound.”

Steve grinned down at him, then leaned back, tucking his pencil behind his ear. “But I knew you were here to catch me.”

“No, you didn’t.  Don’t lie to me, Steven. You had no idea I was here.”

Steve’s smile shifted into a smirk, and he tried fluttering his eyelashes down at his fiancé. It worked - he got a smile back. “I’m glad you are, though.” He tipped forward off the ladder, and Tony’s arms wrapped around his waist and lifted him easily to the floor. Steve popped up on his tiptoes to kiss him. “I just really want to get this mural done or we’ll be unpacking around wet paint for ages. We can’t move the bed in until we have the headboard up and we can’t put the headboard up until -”

“I know, I know.” Tony pulled him close, kissing his forehead. “I love it, by the way, beautiful. Inspired. Aaaand, it can wait.”

“Just a little more -”

“Come on, Michelangelo, put the brushes down. I want to show you something.”

Steve quirked a curious eyebrow at him. Tony was vibrating with excited energy and that was enough to get Steve to click the projector off and tidy his things together. He hadn’t started painting beyond the base layer yet, so thankfully there were no brushes to wash. Tony took his hand and pulled him out of the bedroom.

One hundred and forty-seven pounds of fur and excited affection flung itself at Steve, and he rocked back against Tony’s chest with an  _oof,_  catching the dog under his arms as Tony caught him the same way. “Rowdy! What are you doing here - get down!” Rowdy dropped his paws to the floor and wagged his whole body, wriggling his way around the two of them. “What’s he doing here? I thought you were coming straight here from work?”

“Nah, I stopped at the apartment.” Tony twined their fingers together and led Steve down the hall and into the living room. In the middle of a halo of boxes, upturned lamps, half-assembled furniture, and painting supplies, was a nest: three blankets, all the pillows they owned, a spread of takeout containers, and in the middle, an electric candle. Rowdy’s bowls were nearby, filled with water and kibble.

Steve screeched to a stop and stared. “What’s this?”

Tony wrapped his arms around Steve from behind and burrowed his face into his neck. He was warm and solid, steadying. “I stopped at the apartment and grabbed a few things. I want to spend the night here.”

“But we said it was a bad plan… we don’t have a bed, or - or a coffee maker…”

“I know, but it’s what you want. Right? I read that right?” Tony turned Steve until he could see his face.

And Steve knew they really should spend the night back at the apartment where half their stuff still lived, where their bed and coffee maker were, but they owned this house now, and he wanted to spend their first night as homeowners in the house they owned, as silly as it was. He tugged his shiny, silver key out of his pocket and sighed. “Yeah, I wanna spend the night here. It’s stupid, though. It’s a Wednesday and neither of us will get and sleep, and then we’ll be unpacking exhausted…”

“I don’t care.” Tony started walking backwards towards the nest, pulling Steve along with him. “We’re young, we’ll survive. Plus, you only get to be first time homeowners once.”

Steve laughed and let himself be pulled. “Alright.”

They sunk down onto the blankets, and Tony stacked pillows up until he could lean back on them, then Steve sat down between his knees and settled himself back against Tony’s chest. Tony tugged the bags of takeout closer. “Okay, so I ordered the same thing from three different places so we could compare and contrast.”

Steve snorted. “Seriously? That’s so much extra food, Tony.”

“Yeah, but we’ll have leftovers that we’ll need during unpacking. Plus it’s the only scientific way to approach this. We’re in a new neighbourhood, and we need to know which is the go-to Chinese takeout place. It’s critical.”

“More critical than… getting your driver’s license address changed?”

“Yup.” Tony peeled the top off a container of fried rice and handed Steve chopsticks.

“More critical than… finding out how to pay the water bill?”

“Yup.” Tony settled the container on Steve’s lap then peeled open another, almost identical, container of fried rice. Rowdy whined softly.

“No begging,” Steve reminded him firmly, as Tony tossed him a shrimp. Steve glared over his shoulder.

“What? He’s all stressed by the move.”

“Rowdy has never been stressed by anything in his life.”

The dog wolfed down the shrimp then turned bright, expectant eyes on Tony again. Tony distracted Steve with egg rolls and kisses and they spent the next hour working their way through the food, ranking each dish, and planning out where they were going to put their kitchen appliances. Steve pretended not to notice Tony sneaking the dog more scraps behind his back.

“So.” Tony looked down at the scattered containers, open dip packets, and spilled noodles. “Conclusion is…”

“We have to order from all three,” Steve finished with a pout.

“We do… Happy Garden had the best rice and egg rolls, Ray’s had the best noodles, and Double Dragon had the best stir fry.”

“And the best fortune cookies.”

“Yup.”

“We’re gonna go broke.” Steve shifted down between Tony’s legs until he was slumped, almost flat, his full tummy pressing against his waistband. He popped the button with a happy sigh.

“Hold on.” Tony poked him until he sat up again. “I’ll run Rowdy out into  _our new backyard - what?_  - and you put your pjs on. Then we’ll reconvene.”

“Okay deal.”

Tony pulled out Rowdy’s leash, eventually caught the bouncing mutt and slid open the back door, disappearing into the dark. Steve added “Call fence guy” and “replace back lightbulb” to his lengthy mental list. He tidied up the containers, dropping some beef and broccoli into Rowdy’s bowl to surprise him when he got back. It took some digging to find pajamas, but there were soft pants and a t-shirt of Tony’s in one of the clothes boxes. He washed his face and brushed his teeth, using a washcloth and the tiny toothpaste from Tony’s workbag. It kind of felt like camping.

A sudden brainwave had him digging around behind a stack of boxes, feet tipping up off the floor as he folded himself over the pile. He heard the sliding door slip open and shut and then a hand landed on his ass where it was sticking up.

“Nice,” Tony breathed.

“Or you could, you know, help.”

“What are you doing?”

“Here.” Steve wriggled back up and brought a couch cushion with him. “I brought these over to pad between the dish boxes. We can sleep on these.”

“Ah ha!” Tony grabbed the large, flat cushion then grabbed Steve, pulling him into a kiss. “That’s why I’m going to marry you.”

“Because I packed the cushions?”

“Because you’re brilliant and amazing and kind and this -” Tony grabbed his ass again, and Steve smacked him away, laughing.

They re-built the nest with sleeping in mind, laying out Rowdy’s blanket at their feet. The living room carpet was soft and squishy, and the stack of pillows and blankets made a pretty cosy place to curl up, in the end. Tony propped up his tablet and set it playing its way through their Disney Classics playlist. Halfway through Lion King, Steve started yawning, and Tony pulled him close against his chest, tucking a blanket around his shoulders. Steve wiggled his feet down until they were safe under Rowdy’s substantial bulk, and breathed in the soft, homey scent of Tony.

“I can’t believe this place is really ours,” Tony whispered against Steve’s neck. There were crickets chirping in the distance, and Steve realized there would be all sorts of new sounds to get used to here.

“I can’t believe I’m painting a mural on my own wall for once.”

“First painting as homeowners!” Tony’s fingers drew random circles on the outside of Steve’s shoulder. “Rowdy did his first pee on his very own grass.”

“First takeout as homeowners,” Steve added, chuckling. “First Disney.”

“And there’ll be lots more firsts here.” Tony’s voice dropped low, and it felt like the lights dimmed with it, drawing the room in around them, small and cozy. “We’ll have our first night as newlyweds here. Soon.”

“Yup. And first fight as husbands.” Steve grinned up at Tony and earned a kiss on the tip of his nose. “First orgasms…” he teased. “First broken pie plate.”

“That’s oddly specific. Um - first Home Depot run as homeowners… first forgotten date, first - uh - maybe first night as parents?” Pink flushed its way across Tony’s cheeks.

Steve ducked his chin then rolled his eyes back up at Tony slyly. “Maybe. Or first night as the owners of multiple dogs.”

Tony laughed. “As if Rowdy isn’t dog enough for us both.”

The room fell silent, and Steve burrowed closer. Tony was warm and all around him and Rowdy was breathing steadily at his feet. He felt safe, undeniable safe, and even though the couch cushions were no Tempurpedic, and they hadn’t quite figured out the thermostat so it was a few degrees too cold, and Steve knew he was going to wake up in the night, needing to pee, but not able to find the bathroom in the maze of boxes in the dark, it was perfect.

“First night as homeowners,” he whispered into the dark.

Tony pulled him close and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “First of many.”


	45. Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You said you loved me,” Tony choked out, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “Was that a lie?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anon for my bday prompt party!
> 
> Tags: ID Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending
> 
> Rated: T

“You said you loved me,” Tony choked out, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “Was that a lie?”

“Yes.” Steve’s voice, on the other hand, was rock steady. “I didn’t want you to go that night, so I lied.”

“Oh.” It wasn’t like a slap - a slap was personal, sharp, full of emotion. This was cold, empty, flat. Not a hit, a dismissal. “You used me.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.” Steve leaned against the door frame, keeping his body across the gap so Tony couldn’t even see inside let alone step in. Wind whipped stale rain across the fire escape, and Tony shivered in his too-light jacket. “I didn’t think you’d come back, honestly.” Steve shrugged. “Sorry.”

It was the kind of sorry you gave when you were all sold out of sesame bagels, or you bumped into someone at a crosswalk.  _Sorry_. “Right. Okay.” Despite the absolute humiliation of it, Tony couldn’t seem to school his face into indifference. “Guess I misread…”

“Yeah.” Steve started to close the door. “You did.” It clicked shut.

Tony shoved his hands in his pockets and huddled his shoulders up against the wind. It didn’t matter that hot tears were sliding over his cheeks; he was all wet and wind-flushed anyway - no one would notice. No one would care. No one was even out here.

He stumbled down the rickety steps to the parking lot, and when he turned onto the sidewalk, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Muted sobs shook his shoulders and he tripped his way along, eyes too blurry to see where he was going.  _He said it back!_  He’d told Pepper that night on the phone.  _He loves me too!_

But it had all been a lie. The last six weeks had been a lie. Everything Steve Rogers had said to him had been a lie. Steve had just wanted to get laid and move on. The wind picked up and brought heavier rain with it, plastering Tony’s hair to his forehead.

Now Tony could never go back to the market where they’d met, didn’t know how he could ever hold someone’s hand again without feeling the dull pain of  _You did_ digging into his chest. How could he have misread that so badly? How was Steve such a good actor? They’d laughed and joked, held hands, kissed with morning breath. Steve had bought him an  _ice cream_  for fucks sake. If he just wanted Tony’s body, why hadn’t he said so? Why did he have to lie?

It had felt so nice to be loved for once.

And it was fast, Tony knew that, but curled up on Steve’s couch in the dim light of the TV, wound around each other, Steve’s nose buried in his hair, it was so easy to let those three words slip out. He’d never expected Steve to say them back, but he had. Tony had spent the night. He’d never been so happy.

And tonight. He’d shown up with a bottle of wine and a flyer for a new pizza place, planning to joke about cooking for Steve. They were going to watch The Princess Bride - Steve had never seen it. But instead…

_“Oh, was that tonight?” Steve said dully. “I forgot. Sorry. I’m busy. We’ll have to do it another time.” He moved to close the door, but Tony reached out and stopped him._

_“Are you okay?”_

_“Yeah, sure.” Steve shrugged then he met Tony’s eyes pointedly. “I’ve got a friend over.” There was unkind innuendo laden in Steve’s voice and Tony took a sharp step back._

_“Oh…oh. I thought. Oh.”_

_“Another time?” Steve pressed again._

_“No, I don’t - I thought we were exclusive,” Tony managed to get out._

_Steve looked pitying, of all things. Tony had never seen him look like that. “Uh, yeah.” He shook his head with a soft smile. “This is nothing, Tony. Just a little fun. See you later, okay?” He moved to close the door again._

_“I thought you said you loved me. Was that a lie?”_

_“Yes.”_

Tony sniffed hard and rubbed his wet sleeve over his face. Did it count as being dumped if you were delusional about whether you were dating or not in the first place? It definitely still counted as getting your heart broken.

Tony turned down a sidestreet, sighing with relief when a tall, brick building blocked some of the wind. A car rumbled down the street behind him. He just wanted to sit in the bottom of his tub with the wine he was supposed to be drinking with his boyfriend tonight, hot water on full blast and be left alone. But he was still six blocks from home and it was starting to get dark.

The car behind him revved again then quieted and Tony glanced around to see why they were having so much trouble getting down the road. A man dressed in black was standing right behind him, but Tony didn’t have a chance to yell before a hand clamped over his mouth and the world started to spin.

**

Tony woke up handcuffed to a pipe. He was in what looked like a basement - small high windows, hard concrete floor, insulation blooming out of a hole in the drywall. Footsteps thumped across the floor over his head. The first thing that popped into his head was,  _who the fuck would want to kidnap me?_

The second thing was:  _I wish I’d paid attention to those PSAs in middle school._

At least one of them must have been about how to get out of handcuffs - surely? Tony rattled them against the pipe then stilled when it echoed around the space. There was no need to draw any attention to himself. But the shift reminded him that he had his phone in his back pocket, and his kidnappers apparently hadn’t found it.

Tony was twisting around, trying to find a way to get it out without dropping it on the ground and smashing, it when something did smash, but it wasn’t his phone. A loud bang upstairs was followed by frantic footsteps and the sound of wood splintering. Tony tensed, unsure if he should be trying desperately to hide himself or be screaming for help.

The decision was taken out of his hands when heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs. “Tony?!” Someone called, and Tony tried to startle up to his feet, but there wasn’t enough give in the cuffs. Who knew he was -

Wow.

That was Captain America.

Captain America, in full uniform, was running down the stairs and charging across the floor to where Tony was. When he saw Tony, he  _swore_ \- “Oh shit.”

“Hi?” Tony tried. “What’s happening?”

Captain America crouched down in front of him and pulled his helmet off, revealing familiar blond hair and terrified eyes. “Tony? Tony, it’s me. Please tell me you’re okay.”

_“Steve?”_

“Yes, yes. It’s me, Steve. Oh, baby, I was so worried. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Captain America - who was apparently not Captain America but Steve - pulled Tony into his lap and pressed a kiss to his temple.

What?

Steve grabbed the handcuff chain with one hand, tugged, and it snapped easily in two. He lifted Tony into his arms as if he weighed nothing and clutched him to his chest. “Clear the main floor. I’m getting him out.”

Tony looked up and realized there were two men in tactical gear in the basement with them but they filed out at Steve’s command. Steve pulled his helmet back on - somehow keeping Tony from falling one-handed - and carried Tony up the stairs and out the front door of the house. There was a large, black van idling in the driveway. Steve opened the back door and sat Tony down, feet hanging over the back bumper. He produced a blanket from somewhere and pulled it around his shoulders. “Tony?”

“Um.” Tony ran his fingers over the soft plush of the blanket. “What’s happening? I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore.”

Steve’s face collapsed. “No, no, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. It wasn’t true. None of it was true. They were in my apartment, and I didn’t want them to know about you. I was here in town on an undercover mission. It was my first day, scouting things out, when you bumped into me at the market. I wasn’t supposed to meet you… I wasn’t supposed to fall in love. I’m so sorry. I put you in so much danger.” Steve crouched down and rested a hand on each of Tony’s knees. “I understand if you don’t ever want to see me again, but I need to know if you’re hurt. Did they hurt you?”

At least that question was straightforward. Nothing else ricocheting around in Tony’s mind made any sense at all. “No… no, I’m not hurt. Just - just my wrists are a little sore…”

Steve picked up Tony’s hands and ran his thumbs softly over his palms, next to the dark lines the handcuffs had made. “I’m so sorry, Tony,” Steve whispered.

There was too much to process, but Tony kept getting stuck on Steve’s hands in his again. “So… so you do love me? Or…?”

Steve’s eyes snapped back up to Tony’s, shining with emotion. “ _Yes_. So much. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I never should have told you, though. I should never have taken you out, kept calling you. It’s too dangerous. My life is too dangerous.”

“Shit. You’re Captain America. You’re really Captain America?”

“Yes.”

“And you lied about not loving me because you didn’t want me to get hurt?”

“Yes.”

Tony considered that for a moment. “You’re a dick.”

Steve’s lips twitched up at the corners. He nodded. “Yes.”

Tony reached out and tugged Steve’s collar between his fingers. “I forgive you,” he said quietly, and Steve tipped forward and folded him in his arms.

“God, it killed me to say those things to you, Tony. I just needed you to leave. And I didn’t want them to see that you could be used as leverage against me. But I guess I’m not as good an actor as I thought. They must have seen something in my face and they sent someone after you. I’m so sorry I put you in danger. I went after you, after they left, to tell you everything, and I found the wine bottle broken on the sidewalk -” Steve’s voice broke.

“You saved me, I’m okay.” Tony burrowed into Steve’s neck. He was huge and warm and wrapped all around him, closer than the blanket. “Maybe next time we should use a codeword instead of you ripping my heart to shreds, though. Just a suggestion.”

“Next time…” Steve leaned back. “You can’t seriously still want to date me after all of this.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Turns out you  _are_ the nice, funny, sweet, caring, generous guy I thought you were, plus you’re Captain America, who saves the world on the regular. What more could a guy want in a boyfriend?”

“Maybe someone who isn’t going to put his life in danger three times before breakfast?”

“Pff. Sounds boring.”

“Oh, Tony.” Steve brushed his hair back from his face, the leather of his gloves brushing against Tony’s skin.

“I love you. I don’t want to break up.”

“Okay, okay. God, this is so selfish of me, but I can’t say no. We’re going to figure out a way to keep you safe though, okay? I have a lot I need to tell you, and there’s going to be a lot of very not-fun parts of this, but if you think I’m worth it, I know you are.”

“You are. I want this.” Tony tipped back into Steve’s arms.

“You sure you’re not hurt?” Steve whispered after a few minutes of nothing but clutching Tony close.

“I’ve never been better,” Tony said, and even though his wrists were sore and he was dehydrated and had to pee at the same time, he was woozy from being knocked out, and chilled to his bones, despite all that, it wasn’t a lie.


	46. The List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve heard his name and his attention locked in on the group of students one booth over who had been laughing and chatting for a long time, plowing their way through beer and appetizers.
> 
> "What about Captain America, then? Is he on your list?" one of them asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: Silliness, Meet Awkward, Humour, Sex Jokes and References to Sex, MIT Grad Student Tony, Captain America Steve, stonyclunks.
> 
> Rated: T (or maybe M for sex jokes/references)
> 
> Thanks to alleycat16 for beta!
> 
> Now in Chinese! Thank you to lovestony3000 for translating! [http://robertismyloverrr.lofter.com/post/1d0d5184_1c5d08456 ](http://robertismyloverrr.lofter.com/post/1d0d5184_1c5d08456)

Steve dipped a fry in ketchup, swirling it around the plate for a moment before popping it in his mouth. They were cold by now, but still nice and salty, and Steve had no desire to go anywhere else. He was on his third beer, but he didn't even have a buzz. That would take much, much more, and need to be much, much faster than the slow nurse he'd managed over the last two hours. 

The bar was loud enough that he couldn't hear himself think, but not so busy that he was likely to be recognized or bothered, and it was mostly the university crowd who were so drunk by now that they wouldn't care if they did recognize him. Steve tugged his phone out of his pocket and checked it pointlessly. No one was trying to get a hold of him; there weren't many people who would, even if he weren't on day four of his mandatory fourteen-day paid vacation from SHIELD.

Then he heard his name and his attention locked in on the group of students one booth over who had been laughing and chatting for a long time, plowing their way through beer and appetizers.

"What about Captain America, then? Is he on your list?" one of them asked.

"Of course he's on my fucking list," another replied. "What idiot doesn't have Captain America on their list? And not just cause he's hot as fuck, but because he lives here so you might actually have a shot."

"He lives in Brooklyn, you idiot. Everyone knows that."

"He has a place here in Boston, too,  _ idiot.  _ I read it in US Weekly. He uses it to get away from it all."

"Clint, you do not read US Weekly," insisted a woman's voice.

"It was at the grocery store checkout and the lady in front of me had like seven hundred lemons loose on the belt and the poor cashier had to weigh them one by one so I had a lot of time to kill."

"Anyway," the first voice went on, "this isn't a discussion about where Cap lives, it's about whether you'd fuck him or not."

Steve almost choked on his next fry and had to cough silently for a moment, trying to clear his windpipe. He chugged down a few mouthfuls of beer and pulled his hat further down over his eyes. He was blatantly eavesdropping now.

"Rhodey, most of us are single, so why would we even need a list of freebies? If I meet Captain America, I am free to fuck him, no list required."

"So what you're saying, Pep, is that you would?"

"Of course I would, who wouldn't?"

"That's my point." There was a smack of Rhodey's hand hitting the table. "He's on everyone's list." There was general murmuring and laughter. "Nat - you'd fuck Cap, right?"

"Sure."

"Clint said yes, Pep said yes - Scott?"

"Obviously."

"Tony?"

There was a pause then Steve saw a mess of dark brown curls appear over the back of the bench seat as someone straightened up. "Nope."

"No?" Rhodey asked, incredulous. "You wouldn't fuck Captain America?"

"No way," Tony confirmed, and Steve found himself leaning forward in his seat a bit, wanting to catch his reason why. He was too stuffy? Too boring? Too old? "If I had a shot with Captain America - and I assume it would only be one shot -" everyone murmured their assent - "then absolutely, one hundred percent, I'm not going to fuck him, I'm getting  _ him  _ to fuck  _ me _ ."

Steve couldn't help the snort of laughter, it just burst right out of him, loud enough that there was no way they hadn't heard him. The other booth abruptly fell silent, their own laughter cut off into no doubt rolled eyes and shared looks. The dark hair bobbed, then turned and a face appeared, brow pinched and mouth opened, ready to tell Steve off for eavesdropping, but his eyes raked over Steve and suspicion melted into shock, his mouth falling open as his brows hitched up towards his hairline. 

The face disappeared again.

"Tony, what -?"

_ "He's behind us,"  _ Tony hissed, Steve's superhearing carrying the sound to him as clearly as if Tony had said it to his face.

"What?"

_ "He's. Sitting. Right. Behind. Us,"  _ Tony growled, lowly. _ "Eating fries!"  _

Another face popped up, and Steve gave a little wave. It disappeared again. "Fuck."

They whispered among themselves for a while, and Steve brushed his last fry through the ketchup, making a pattern over the white plate with streaks of red. He should leave, right? That was the right thing to do. This was awkward.

"Hey."

He looked up and the guy with the dark curls - Tony - had reappeared, standing next to Steve's booth instead of looking over the edge of it. "Hi."

Tony chewed his bottom lip for a moment then slid into the other side of the booth. "I just wanted to apologize. We were just kidding around, but it's not cool to talk about real people that way. Though, obviously, if we knew you were here, we wouldn't have."

Steve waved away his apology. "Nah, it's fine. It's funny. I don't mind."

Tony breathed out heavily, slumping down in the booth seat. "Oh, thank god. I was worried we'd pissed you off."

"Well…" Steve sipped his beer. "I was pretty annoyed for a moment there."

Tony's eyes snapped back to his, wide and worried. "Really?"

"Yeah. When you said you wouldn't fuck me. Pretty hurtful."

It was Tony's turn to snort with surprised laughter. He shrugged, grinning. "What can I say, I see things going one very particular way and I can't be swayed."

Steve smiled at him, looking up through his eyelashes. "As long as I'm on your list."

"Cap…" Tony breathed out, "you  _ are  _ my list."

"Call me Steve." Steve reached across the table to offer Tony his hand.

Tony took it and shook once, held it for a second, then released him, his fingertips skating along Steve's palm as they parted. "Tony."

"I gathered that."

"My friends are all idiots. But we're really big fans of yours."

Steve eyed up the last of his beer then Tony. He'd taken them for students at first, but they had to be grad students because Tony could only be a few years younger than him at the most. He flicked his gaze over Tony's jaw then down to his arms. Lean, tight biceps poked out from a fitted t-shirt. This guy was hot.

"Did you just check me out?" Tony spluttered.

"What!? No. What?" Steve winced. "Maybe. Look you were talking about… lists and stuff and. Things. I can't help - thinking…"

"Oh my god."

"That came out wrong."

"I'm not really sure it came out at all - though I'm thinking maybe you just did - but it's not like I mind, Jesus."

"Can I join you guys for another round?" Steve blurted out, half because he was fucking lonely and they seemed like fun, and half because this five minute conversation had been the most fun he'd had with another human in far too long and he didn't want it to end yet. "My treat."

"Um. Of course? How is that even a question?" Tony shuffled out of the booth. "Hold on, let me warn them so they're not assholes." He disappeared around to the neighbouring booth, Steve's eyes slipping down over the curve of his rear without permission as he leaned over their table. Steve heard Tony hiss, "He's coming to drink with us. Don't be fucking jerkoffs for once in your lives. He's actually really nice," and then he poked his head back around the divider and gestured at Steve.

Steve drained the last of his beer then shuffled out of the booth and came to stand beside Tony, who pointed everyone out one-by-one as they each waved. Pepper, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, Scott, and Rhodey.

"Holy shit, it's really you," Scott breathed. "I didn't believe them. They lie a lot. Can I have your autograph?"

"Sure." Steve caught the waitress' eye and gestured for another round. She nodded and made her way over to the bar. 

"Fuck, I don't have anything to write on." Scott started patting down all his pockets, while Tony evicted Clint from his side of the both and shoved Rhodey down to the end then gestured Steve in. Steve sat, and Tony tucked up beside him. They all stared at him, silent.

"So…" Steve tapped his fingers on the table. "Doesn't anyone want to know who's on my list?"

And it  _ was  _ fun. They all relaxed, after some prodding from Steve - the free round of drinks also didn't hurt - and before long they were all laughing like old friends. Scott found a sharpie and had Steve sign his forearm, proclaiming to the table that he was never showering again, and Clint challenged Steve to an arm wrestle while Pepper poked his flexing arm with visible awe. 

But the longer the night went on, the more Tony's warmth became all too distracting against Steve's side. His attention kept twisting back to his left where Tony was snugged up against him. It'd been a long time since he'd felt attraction like this, strong and wild and instantaneous, and if the little looks Tony was shooting him were anything to go by, meeting Cap for real hadn't dampened his interest, either. 

Steve's ability to keep up with the conversation lulled as his whole mind became occupied with Tony. He wanted to ask him to come home with him, wanted him all to himself for a few precious hours, get to know him, maybe get to touch him, kiss him. He just  _ wanted.  _

Tony noticed after a while, that Steve was looking at him instead of engaging with the crowd. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I just - sorry. I'm just trying to figure out how to ask you if you want to get out of here," Steve finally managed to tumble out.

Tony's mouth opened, closed, opened again. "Me? Like you and me… leave together?"

"Yeah. Only if you want to, of course. I like your friends, love them, but I'd really like to get to know  _ you  _ better. Maybe I could buy you coffee? Or you could come back to my place. I have… uh… ice cream?"

Tony leapt to his feet and the conversation screeched to a halt, everyone stopping to turn and stare at him. "Well, that's it for me," he said brightly. "We're off." He reached out a hand and Steve grabbed it and let himself be pulled out of the booth to stand next to him. "Going back to Steve's place," he said, all in a rush. "Be good, put the bill on my tab - yes Scott you can crash on my couch - and yes Rhodey, I will text you regularly to assure you I haven't been murdered, but it's Captain America, so I'm not sure we need that particular precaution this time."

"You should always be careful," Steve told him, and Tony smiled, his hand squeezing Steve's.

"Night guys." Tony grinned at Steve, and he could see the nervous excitement there now, could feel it mirrored on his own face. He was giddy and silly and couldn't imagine ever sleeping again. Maybe Tony would stay up all night with him; maybe he could learn everything about him there was to know. 

"Goodnight. Nice to meet you." Steve waved at them then let Tony tug him towards the door.

"See, I told you!" he heard Clint proclaim as he walked away, an arm slung around Tony's shoulders, holding him close. "He totally has a place here in Boston! I was right!" 


	47. Time Bomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a blue wire and a red wire. Tony cuts the blue wire.
> 
> The bomb explodes.
> 
> “Fu-” Tony has time to say, in 2015.
> 
> “-ck,” he finishes, in 1941. His stomach lurches as if his lunch was teleported two inches to the left of everything else of his, and then he looks down and realizes something else is missing entirely. Apparently, the Time Bomb doesn’t do fabrics. _“Fuck,”_ he says again, with feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Massively huge thank yous to neverthelessthesun who plotted this all out for me when I got stuck.
> 
> This is for my bday prompt party, for anon who wanted Tony travelling back to the 1940s. Naked. Thanks for the prompt anon!

There’s a blue wire and a red wire. Tony cuts the blue wire.

The bomb explodes.

“Fu-” Tony has time to say, in 2015.

“-ck,” he finishes, in 1941. His stomach lurches as if his lunch was teleported two inches to the left of everything else of his, and then he looks down and realizes something else is missing entirely. Apparently, the Time Bomb doesn’t do fabrics. _“Fuck,”_ he says again, with feeling. Cool air draws goosebumps on his skin.

Tony estinates he has about forty-five minutes before Bruce gets de-Hulked and figures out to cut the other wire. It was a fifty-fifty chance, and he rolled the dice and lost - it happens - but he’d uploaded the reverse engineered schematics to JARVIS before he’d snipped, so if Bruce gets his hands on the bomb, he’ll be able to bring Tony back. Hopefully. Assuming his math is correct.

The breeze picks up again, and Tony rubs his hands together, curling over himself to try and shield his naked body. He’s in an alley, it seems like, or behind an apartment building. There are metal dustbins crowded up against a brick wall, dry leaves, and old, crumpled newspapers collected in nooks and corners. Tony has the urge to open one and do the classic time travel check, but he doesn’t have to, he knows where he is.

Because Time Cop, or Mr. Clocks, or Cogsworth, or whatever he’s calling himself, had a brilliant idea to yeet Captain America back to 1941 so he could meet himself and collapse the timeline. Or something. Tony’s not sure it was a foolproof plan, as far as villain plans go, but he’s also not sure that someone wearing a cuckoo on his head really has a firm grip on reality. But, unfortunately, he did have a firm grip on quantum physics, because his Time Bomb had been startlingly effective. Except for the part where Tony’s naked, but maybe that was always part of the plan.

The breeze turns into a harsh wind, and Tony shivers and shoves up against the brick wall, but there’s no way he can stay like this for forty-five minutes (an hour at the most). He needs shelter, or at least something to wrap around his waist. He can’t really venture forth into the past, and if Marty McNutso nailed the coordinates, one Steve Rogers (the bite-sized version) is due to show up in the area soon, and Tony probably shouldn’t take any risks. Steve meeting himself would have been disastrous - Tony meeting Steve? It’s unclear.

So Tony shuffles down the alleyway, both hands pressed delicately over his delicates, until he hears a noise that makes him freeze. It’s a sort of rustle that could be a racoon or could be a police officer ready to drag Tony off to the pokey for public indecency, and while any long-term consequences won’t really be an issue here _(please Bruce, please please, make it not an issue),_ Tony’s not interested in explaining his current predicament to anyone. Still, the cat within him can’t resist sating its curiosity, and he peeks around the corner of the alleyway only to find himself two inches from a broad chest covered in a stained navy button-up under a rough denim jacket.

The man screeches to a halt with a yelp, and Tony stumbles backwards, his hands automatically coming up, palms flat, a complete lack of repulsors pointed in defense. There are two men, actually, coming around the corner, each clutching a paper bag, fingers gripped around the bottleneck at the top, paper crumpled and torn.

“Good evening, gentlemen!” Tony tries, grinning broadly. He lowers his hands back over his dignity. “Nice night for a stroll.”

“Where in god’s name did you come from?”

“Don’t mind me.” Tony starts backing away, as subtly as he can. He doesn’t have a gauntlet watch, JARVIS glasses, or even underwear, so he isn’t eager to get into it with a pair of slightly inebriated thugs.

The thugs, unfortunately, aren’t particularly accommodating. “Where are your damn pants?” one of them growls.

“Would you believe it’s laundry day?” Tony offers with a smile. “No? Guess I just enjoy a healthy breeze on the gents.”

They curl their lips, in almost-amusing unison. “You some kind of deviant? Hanging around here lookin for people t'harass? You’d better scram, buddy.”

“This neighbourhood ain’t welcoming to that kind of shit.”

Tony smiles coquettishly and cocks a hip, because he’s never been one to pass up an opportunity to get himself into trouble, as evidenced by the fact that he’s here in the first place. “Why?” he drawls. “Too distracting? Like what you see?”

The thugs, it seems, don’t. Tall, Dark, and Crooked Nose throws the first punch, and luckily Tony’s expecting it, knocking his fist to the side easily. But Short, Squat, and Giant Forehead, dives in after - all flail and no finesses, but he’s got twenty pounds on Tony, and he’s got pants on, so he has the upper hand pretty quickly.

Tony takes a sharp hit to the jaw and tumbles backwards until he’s pinned against the wall, but his own knuckles connect more than once, and he’s pleased at how well he’s holding his own. Then he hears a new voice shouting from the end of the alleyway.

Only, it’s not a new voice. It’s Steve.

“Get off him!” Steve yells, and his footsteps echo in the small space as he flings himself with reckless abandon down the alley.

He distracts the thugs long enough that Tony manages to tackle Crooked Nose to the ground and get a good shot in that’s either going to rename him as Straight Nose or Even Crookeder Nose. Blood spills down over his cheeks and mouth and Tony’s fist.

Nose rolls over, clutching his face and wailing, and Tony pushes to his feet and grapples with Giant Forehead. Steve is fast in his grip, grunting and whacking at anything his short arms can reach. He’s holding Forehead off, Tony has to give him that, but he’s not making much headway, and sheer righteous fury is only getting him so far.

When Forehead smacks Steve across the ear so hard Tony can hear it ringing himself, he gives up on catching his breath and throws himself into Forehead’s side. He brings all three of them down, Steve still caught in the other mans’ grip, but Tony gets his bearings first, flattens Forehead out and drives his knee up into his crotch as hard as he can. No mercy.

Forehead is stock still for a heartbeat and then he collapses in on himself like a dying star, crying out and slamming his hands down over his balls in a satisfyingly amusing reflection of the position they’d caught Tony in.

Tony pushes himself to his feet then holds out a hand to help Steve up too. If there’s any danger to him meeting Steve’s past self, he’s already stuck his foot in it completely - no going back. “You alright?” he asks.

Steve brushes himself off then wipes his sleeve over his face, smearing blood and dirt from his upper lip straight back to his ear. He shrugs. “I’m fine. You?”

“Peachy.”

Nose is pushing himself up to his feet with a growl, and Tony’s considering stomping on his balls too, when Steve grabs his sleeve and pulls him deeper into the alley. “Come on!”

Tony’s not about to argue with the guy that knows his way around, so he lets himself be led. What he’d assumed was the end of the alley, actually isn’t, and Steve shows him how to shuffle around the end of the fence until they’re in a closed off area behind a boarded up shop.

“They won’t follow us,” Steve says, wiping his face again, even more ineffectually.

“Thanks.”

“So, uh, who are you anyway? When I walked by I thought you were Al. He lives back here, doesn’t have anywhere else to go, you know? And people pick on him sometimes. But um…” Steve’s eyes flick down over Tony’s naked body then snap up to a spot about a mile and half over his shoulder. Steve clears his throat. “You’re not Al.”

“Nope. Sorry. I’m - uh - I’m having a bit of a day. You should know that at some point I’m just going to disappear, assuming everything goes according to plan. Well, according to plan B.” Tony blinks at Steve for a moment. “Okay, like plan H, but what can you do?” He clears his throat too. “I’m usually wearing more clothes than this.”

“Do you… um. Do you need something to wear? I live like two blocks over and I have some stuff there that might fit ya.”

Tony steals a moment to really look at Steve. He’s seen pictures, in Steve’s SHIELD file, but it’s different, having the real thing in front of him. Steve’s sickliness is more apparent in person, the way his breath catches and heaves, the slight twist to his spine, how his bones poke out at every opportunity, stretching pale, yellowed skin too far. But there’s also something else that pictures can’t capture - _fire._ Steve burns with the fury of a man held back, with a need that Tony thinks has been tempered by the serum, or maybe just satisfied by it. This Steve is angry, and this Steve is desperate, and Tony has seen his Steve be both of those things, but… not like this. It’s breathtaking, and Tony only realizes a moment too late that his quick appraisal has been anything but.

“Sir?”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m -”

“Having a bit of a day?” Steve hazards, with a twitch of his lips.

Tony almost laughs. “Yes. Clothes would be amazing, thank you. I’ll give them back in like half an hour, two hours tops. I’d explain, but it’s going to be about seventy years before you’d believe me anyway.”

Steve makes a noise of confused support, the kind you give a small child when they’re informing you that they’ve made friends with the nice man who lives in the a/c vent and you’re humouring them but also a little bit considering moving house. Then he turns and hustles out of the alley.

Tony lets out a sharp breath and tips forward to lean against the cool brick. He’s sweaty and panting from the fight, which should feel better than being chilled, but the air is still harsh and cold and now its whipping sweat away from his rapidly cooling skin and sending shivers even deeper.

Tony gives himself a careful once over, but it seems that all he’s suffered are some bruises and superficial cuts. There’s blood on his thigh, but it appears to be someone else’s and the rest is mostly dirt. It’s starting to be tiresome, being naked and in the wrong century, and his sympathy for Steve twinges. Steve had gone seventy years forward and for him there would be no going back. He didn’t just have to kill an hour or two in the wrong time (three at the most - come on Bruce), but even after only forty minutes here, Tony’s feeling homesick.

Footsteps thunder down the alley again, from the opposite direction, and Tony tenses, but the wheezing breaths let him know it’s Steve long before he turns the corner. He skids to a halt and drops an armful of fabrics in Tony’s hands before bending at the waist, hands on his knees, and catching his breath.

“Thank you.” Tony unfolds the things, and Steve politely turns away while he gets dressed. With his back to Tony, Tony can see a flaming red stripe of flushed skin at the nape of Steve’s neck, disappearing down into his collar. Tony smiles to himself as he shoves his legs in unfamiliar khakis. Steve still blushes the same, one Captain America serum and seventy-five years later. You just have to know where to look.

None of the clothes fit quite right, but they cover Tony’s junk, and for the first time since landing, he lets out a full breath. He tips back against the wall, and closes his eyes for a moment.

“Decent?” Steve asks, still not turning around.

“Never. But I am dressed.”

Steve peeks over his shoulder then smiles. “That colour suits ya.”

Tony snorts. “I look like a puzzle put together wrong, but thanks.” He smooths out the sweater that manages to hang down over his thighs but barely passes his elbows. “How’s your nose? You should ice that.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s fine. I’ve had worse.” He wipes it again, only deteriorating the situation on his face. “You gonna tell me how you wound up naked and in an alley fight?”

Tony sighs. “I can’t, not really. But if science works the way I think it does, you’ll understand one day. Let’s just say… I’m from out of town. And the clothes thing wasn’t my idea.”

Steve’s eyes narrow and he looks at Tony like he’s reading his mind which is _terrifying_ because right now Tony’s marvelling at the amount of space in the four-inches-too-short khakis he’s wearing and wondering if the serum went all the way down or if the rather startling measurements JARVIS had taken for Steve’s suit redesign last year were canon from the start. But Steve, it seems, can’t read his mind, because he just shrugs and leans up against the wall beside Tony.

“Guess we all gotta story, huh?” Steve taps his fingers against his thigh. “If you’re looking to uh… keep your name under wraps, this might not be the best place to land, though.”

Steve’s lip is sort of curled up like he disapproves but is trying to keep it to himself, and Tony realizes he thinks he’s a draft dodger. He snorts out a laugh before he can stop himself, and Steve looks at him sharply. “Not a problem. I’m too old anyway.” Or he will be. Next May. He winks. “Don’t worry. Like I said, I’m not going to be around long.” When Steve doesn’t say anything, Tony adds, softer, “You’re quite the fighter.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m not. I just can’t leave well enough alone. Or so I’m told.”

“There are lots of ways to fight the good fight,” Tony tells him. “You’ll get your shot.”

“Who _are_ you?” Steve stares harder, like he can find the answer written on the backs of Tony’s eyeballs.

“Just a friend. Thanks for the save. Thanks for everything.” Tony’s about to add more, maybe too much, maybe say something dangerous and affectionate and unwelcome to a Steve that’s nearly a century from knowing him, but then there’s a pull low in his gut, and he recognizes it as the same feeling that tugged him here in the first place. He grins, says “Bye, Steve!” and stays just long enough to hear Steve yell, “Hey! How do you know my -?!” before he’s yanked back to 2015.

Once again, the clothes stay behind.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Tony says, glaring down at his rediscovered nudity. “I’m starting to think it wasn’t even a byproduct of the time travel. Cukoo brain is just kinky as fuck.”

“Tony?”

Tony turns, and Steve is standing there, staring at him, wide-eyed. There’s an edge of pink peeking up out of his collar and flushing back behind his ears, and Tony can’t help but smile. He loves that spunky, angry, broken boy from Brooklyn, but this is _his_ Steve. “Steve,” he breathes. “Deja vu.”

Then he watches as the puzzle pieces click together. “Oh my god, it was you.” Steve slaps a hand over his mouth.

“What?”

“It was you! In that alley! The naked guy who got beat up! Holy shit. I thought I’d dreamed that! Bucky told me it was a fever-induced hallucination and made me stay in bed for two weeks. _Holy shit!_ ”

“Uh…”

“You just _disappeared! You knew my name!”_ Steve advances on him, and Tony can’t help taking a stumbling step backwards, but Steve catches him by both shoulders and holds on tight. He gets up close in Tony’s space. “It was you,” he finally breathes.

“I probably just horribly broke the space time continuum or something,” Tony manages, holding back a squeak at the way Steve’s uniform is rubbing against his bare skin.

“I think it’ll be fine,” comes Bruce’s long-suffering voice from somewhere over Steve’s shoulder. “Nothing’s gone plooey yet. I’m going to go tell the others you’re okay,” he adds, pointedly. And then they’re alone.

“I’m sorry I made you think you were crazy for seventy years,” Tony says, not sure what kind of Hallmark card this situation calls for.

“I -” Steve starts, then he clears his throat - adorably similar to the way his younger version had less than an hour ago. “I used to daydream about the man in the alley. I think - Sometimes I thought he was my guardian angel or something. The way he just magically disappeared, knew who I was - kinda makes sense, right? Also made sense that my angel would be dumb enough to get into a brawl in an alleyway five minutes after arriving on earth.” He chuckled nervously. “I liked to think that you had come to check up on me. Sometimes I prayed to you. Wow. Seems so dumb now. It was you…”

Tony doesn’t know what to say to all of that, though it’s making tingles run up through his chest and down his left arm. “How come you didn’t recognize me when we finally met in the future?”

Steve shrugs. “It was so long ago, and you were dirty and covered in blood and bruises -” he reaches out and wipes his sleeve over Tony’s cheek. It comes back stained dark. “It just never occurred to me to make that connection. Over time, I’d blurred my memory of your face.”

“I don’t think it’s dumb at all,” Tony whispers, breath catching in his throat. “I’m glad I didn’t scare you, that I could be that for you.”

“My angel…” Steve’s eyes flicker over Tony’s face like he’s re-memorizing what he looks like, and Tony can feel heat flush up into his own cheeks, hopefully hidden by dirt and blood. Steve takes a deep breath, lets it out. “Tony?”

“Yeah?” It’s barely a word.

“I’ve had a crush on you for three years and also seventy-five years. Would you like to go to dinner with me some time?” Steve’s voice is steady, but there’s a tension in his shoulders that suggests he’s anything but.

Tony grips the front of Steve’s uniform with two hands to keep him upright. He wants to make a joke, throw out a quip or a clever one-liner, but all he can do is say, “Okay,” because he really, really does want to.

Steve lights up, beaming, glowing, and Tony likes to think that he’s happier now, that even though that kid in the alley had no idea what horrible things he was about to face, go through, that Steve’s come out the other end happier. “Oh, good,” he says softly, Brooklyn accent leaking back in at the edges, and now Tony’s smiling too.

“Just one request,” Tony says, hearing the footsteps of their teammates down the street.

“Yeah? Anything,” Steve offers, so easily it makes Tony’s body flush with tingles, from head to toe this time.

Tony smiles. “I’d like to put on some pants first.”


	48. Rush Hour Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a section of the Metro called "Rush Hour Crush" where people can post their commute missed connections or passing fancies. Tony never thought one of them would end up being about him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Ironlawyer, who prompted the Rush Hour Crush ad in the MCU chat and caught me. Thanks! I hope you like it <33333
> 
> Tags: Fluff, AU, Meet Cute

"Hey, Tony? Is this you?"

Tony looked up to where Pepper and Rhodey were looking at a crinkled copy of The Metro, Pepper leaning over the back of the couch to read over Rhodey's shoulder.

"What?"

"This ad. I think it's talking about you. It sounds like you."

Tony snorted. "What? In 'Speeder of the Week'?"

Rhodey tossed the paper over, and Tony caught it and scanned the page, trying to figure out what they were talking about. Rhodey had folded it around a Rush Hour Crush ad, the section where people sent in their subway-related missed connections.

_ Brown-haired guy with a blue sweater and grey bag at Juno station last Friday night. We smiled at each other outside Starbucks. I'd like to take you out to coffee and see that smile and those eyes again.  - Blond guy in a red t-shirt with a black backpack. _

Tony laughed. "Yeah, sure. Who on earth would be searching for me?"

"But you have a blue shirt and a grey bag!" Pepper insisted. "And you were at Juno station on Friday, surely. You use that stop every time you go to the school."

"I'm sure there were forty people in blue shirts with grey bags at Juno station, Pep. I didn't smile at a guy in a red shirt at Starbucks. I don't even think I went to Starbucks that day."

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "You go to Starbucks every day."

"It's not me, okay!" Tony threw the paper back and stood up.

"We were just kidding," Pepper said, reaching for him, but Tony shook his head and stepped away.

"It's okay, I know. I just think I need to get this circuit board design idea out of my head for me to think straight. It's not you."

"Alright."

"We're going to order pizza in a bit, Tones, you in?" Rhodey asked.

"Sure. Get me lots of pineapple."

"You got it."  

Tony slipped into his bedroom and shut the door. Instead of going to his desk to work on the designs, he collapsed backwards onto his bed and threw his arm over his face. He remembered the guy: tall, blond and gorgeous, grinning at Tony flirtily over a styrofoam cup. Tony had looked at him at first because he was wearing a t-shirt in October, then his eyes had flicked up to his face and, well, anyone would look. When he'd smiled, Tony had smiled back, quirking up an eyebrow. And it had been fun, but also fleeting and that was -

Well, that was it. Why was this guy trying to find him now? It was stupid, reckless. What if Tony turned out to be a serial killer? Or even worse, a needy, moody, unlovable engineering PhD student with an unpleasant past and a penchant for pushing away the people he cared about the most? You know, hypothetically…

Tony growled at himself and pushed up from the bed. There was no use dwelling on it. The guy would probably forget in a few days, anyway. He'd flirt with some other dude in a blue sweater at Starbucks and Tony would be the furthest thing from his mind. In fact, it probably  _ wasn't  _ Tony he'd been talking about in the ad. It was vague enough - it could be anyone. It hardly mattered.

And yet, after pizza and video games, when Rhodey and Pepper were fast asleep in their rooms and the apartment was dark, Tony snuck out of his room, found the Metro in the trash and peeled off the page with the ad. He shoved it to the back of his sock drawer. 

**

Tony did everything he could to put the crush ad out of his mind. He focused on his thesis and his side projects, and took office hours at work, but every time he let his brain relax, it wandered back to the hot guy standing outside of Starbucks. 

His apartment was equidistant between two stops - Juno and Kilcrest. At first, he forced himself to use Kilcrest, even though there was no Starbucks there, but after three days, he couldn't take the lack of caffeine anymore and he went back to Juno. So what if the guy might be there? He couldn't let a stupid ad chase him out of his routine. And the guy hadn't been looking for Tony anyway.

After two weeks, Tony had almost convinced himself that was true, and then he saw him again.

"Oh!"

Tony turned from blowing on his hot coffee and looked up at the elbow he'd bounced off of. The mad press of people flowed around them, bustling from the Starbucks to the station entrance. It was The Guy. It was blonde guy in red shirt with black backpack. And he was looking at Tony, delighted. 

"It's you," the guy said.

Tony gaped at him. "What?"

Pink bloomed on the man's cheeks. "Uh. I'm sure you don't remember, but we sort of -" he waved vaguely "- saw each other a few weeks ago… I - uh - put one of those Rush Hour Crush ads out. I was hoping you'd see it and want to get coffee."

"I know," Tony blurted out. "I saw it."

"Oh!" The guy's smile deepened then slowly faded when Tony didn't say anything further. "Oh."

"It's -" Tony fumbled his words. "It's not - It doesn't -"

"No problem." The guy took a step back and bounced off another commuter. "It's alright. You're probably, uh, super taken. Guy like you. Or whatever. It's fine. Don't worry about it. It was nice to see you again, though. Maybe I can still buy you a coffee sometime…" his eyes cut to Tony's cup "- when you don't… already have one - just friendly! Cause it's um - nice to see a familiar… face…" The guy turned sharply and disappeared into the crowd, and Tony was left there, jostled left and right, completely at a loss.

What?

Eventually, the flow of the crowd pushed Tony down the stairs and onto the train. He stood up on his toes and scanned the heads of the people, wobbling back and forth, but he didn't see The Guy. He was gone. 

Tony had missed his chance. Rush Hour Crush guy was never going to talk to him again. Not that he'd wanted a chance. Did he?

He shoved off the train car at his stop and ran up the stairs to the street, scrolling through his phone. It rang twice.

"Tony?"

"Rhodey, do I want a chance?"

"A chance at what?"

"A chance with the Rush Hour Crush guy."

"Tony, I love you, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

Tony huffed and turned the corner towards the university. "You know. The ad. The 'ooo I saw a random dude with a coffee cup and now I want to marry him' ad. In the paper. You and Pep wouldn't shut up about it."

Rhodey was silent for a moment. "It was you? You said it wasn't!"

"I know that! But obviously it was me. It sounded just like me. Keep up, bud."

Rhodey laughed. "Oh, Tones. Yes, yes you do want a chance with Rush Hour Crush guy, because why the hell not? If he's a creep, he's easy enough to avoid. And you need a date, pal. Or at least to get laid."

"Hey!"

"Tony. You spend way too much time with your thesis project and your job and your robots. Why are you asking, anyway? Did you see him again?"

Tony paced back and forth across the quad, avoiding going in to his classroom to run his seminar. He was verging on late, but he wouldn't be able to focus on teaching with his mind full of subway guy. "I saw him again and I basically said he was the last person I wanted to have a date with."

"You said that?"

"Well, not in so many words. I mostly said 'um' and he filled in the rest. It was probably the look on my face. You know, the look of abject horror. I'm good at that one."

"You are." Rhodey was quiet for a moment and Tony could feel the clock ticking on towards late. "So why are you asking me if you want a chance with him if he instills horror?"

"Because after the fact I thought maybe he instilled something else."

"A boner?"

Tony opened his mouth to protest then closed it again. "... Basically."

"You want a chance with him, Tony. Now go teach your class."

"Okay. Thank you, Rhodey."

**

Tony tossed and turned all night, but he couldn't sleep. Eventually he gave up. He flicked on the light by his bed and shuffled over to his dresser. He tugged open the top drawer and wriggled out the creased piece of paper shoved at the back.

_ that smile and those eyes - _

Tony huffed down at the ad. Maybe Rhodey was right. Maybe he wanted a chance.

He opened his laptop and found the website for Rush Hour Crush. He read through the instructions for sending one in, but there was nothing there for what to do to connect with someone who had written one about you. A little googling confirmed it: they were anonymous, and it was all for show, not to actually match people up. The submissions were anonymous so contacting the paper wouldn't do anything to help. 

After a quiet, personal tantrum, Tony started to formulate a plan. Now that he wanted a second - or rather third - chance, he wasn't going to take a lack of contact information for an answer. He could hang around Juno station and wait, but Tony wasn't one for waiting once he'd made his mind up and it had already taken two weeks to see the guy again, and that was with him actively looking. Now, he'd probably be actively avoiding.

So Tony sat back in front of his laptop and clicked to the Rush Hour Crush page. He started to compose his own:

_ Blond guy in red t-shirt with black backpack: I'm sorry I just stood there gaping at you like a dead fish. I really do want to get to know you. I hope I haven't soured this section of the paper for you. If you see this, meet me where we first met. I'll have a coffee there waiting for you. And a smile. - Brown haired guy in blue sweater with grey bag and his foot in his mouth. _

Tony hit send before he could regret it, then climbed back into bed.

They didn't post it.

Tony checked the paper first thing the next morning, turning right to the Rush Hour Crush section, but it wasn't there.

Tony sent it again.

It took nine days. Tony sent the same Rush Hour Crush in every night before bed and checked the paper when he got on the subway the next day. Finally, he opened the paper on the tenth day and saw his words. He spun on his heel abandoning his trek to the library and headed right back to the Starbucks outside Juno station. He ordered two coffees and took a table by the front window, fingers twisted together. 

"Hey."

Tony jerked away from the window he was practically pressed against and turned to find the Rush Hour Crush guy smiling nervously at him. Tony shot to his feet and almost knocked over both coffees. "Hi. That was fast."

The guy laughed lightly. "I've been here for twenty minutes."

"Oh shit. Sorry. I just saw they'd printed it. I've been trying to get it in for a while."

"I was really hoping that was you."

"Uh, yeah, it was me. I just - I was an idiot last time we met. I didn't mean to brush you off. But I was kind of hoping that the third time could be the charm." Tony fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "Could it?"

The guy laughed and leaned closer. "Definitely. It can. So you don't mind if I join you?"

Tony gestured at the table. "By all means. That's the idea. Uh - a date. You and me. Coffee and - uh - smiles. Like you said. I'm Tony, by the way." 

Tony held out the other coffee cup and the guy took it. He settled into the seat opposite. "Hi, Tony." He dropped his eyes to his cup then rolled them back up to Tony, a soft smile curling up one corner of his lips. "I'm Steve."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 Mouse over if you are IL >>> !


	49. Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm so lucky to have you," Steve whispered into Tony's hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is for two of my 2018 bday prompts. One is for snooglepoot, who asked for "I'm so lucky to have you" and the other is anon who asked for slow domestic Sunday morning!
> 
> Bday Prompt Party 2019 is open for prompts now! [Visit my tumblr to submit a prompt!](https://festiveferret.tumblr.com/post/186617313134/bday-prompt-party)
> 
> Tags: Established Relationship, Silverfox Tony, Retired Tony, Domestic, Fluff, Sweet, Love, Comfort, M-Rated

Steve was so exhausted that coming home didn't even feel real. It'd only been forty-six hours since he'd last stepped foot in the tower elevator, but they'd been the longest forty-six hours of his long life. He'd left in the wee hours of the morning on Wednesday for one mission, which had been a complete disaster, had barely touched down in D.C. fifteen hours later, when he'd been called right out again for an emergency second mission. Now, it was so late on Saturday night that it was Sunday morning, and everything had a haze of exhaustion to it. 

He could last that long, and longer, without sleep, but two terrible missions, back-to-back and unexpected, with not enough food and a team he didn't know very well, and far, far too much collateral damage, had worn him down to the bone. 

The tower was quiet, nothing but the electronic hum of the future filling the halls and elevators. JARVIS kept the lights low, somehow able to tell that Steve was struggling to keep his eyes open as it was. 

The penthouse was also quiet and dark, and Steve dumped his go-bag and stripped out of his uniform in the front hall, leaving everything there in an unsightly pile. He'd clean it up tomorrow, and he didn't want to wake Tony. He actually half-expected Tony to still be awake, but he'd been pulling all-nighters less and less these days, and when Steve cracked the bedroom door, there was a lump in the middle of the mattress, and Tony's silver-flecked hair sticking out of the top of a burrito of blankets.

Seeing Tony there was just enough of a boost to get Steve to the bathroom where he stared forlornly at the shower, decided he couldn't face it, and instead just washed his face and brushed his teeth. He'd done decon after the mission but that was a short, perfunctory rinse with harsh, unscented bar soap, and he still felt disgusting, but it'd have to wait until morning. He was genuinely concerned that he'd pass out in the shower stall and hit his head on the tile.

After a full glass of water, he popped into the walk-in to grab clean boxers then crawled into bed beside Tony. 

Tony had settled himself directly in the middle, and had every blanket they owned wrapped around him in a tight knot, but Steve didn't mind, he ran hot at night anyway. He stretched out at Tony's side, still plenty of space for him on the enormous California King, and curled his arm around Tony's cocoon. He pressed a kiss near where he thought Tony's shoulder would be, and then he passed out completely.

**

Steve came to slowly, to the sound of Tony's voice and the smell of cinnamon. He sat up with a groan, every one of his muscles protesting, and an unhealed gash on his side catching and pulling. He needed a shower, but the bathroom seemed a hundred miles away. Then the door popped open and Tony stuck his head in. 

"Hey, you. Thought I heard you wrestling with wakefulness. You okay?" He poked the door with his foot to swing it even wider and the rest of him appeared. He was carrying a tray, and it smelled  _ divine.  _

"I'm okay. Just -" Steve shook his head a little, as if he could shake off the last few days like a dog getting out of water. "It's fine."

Tony set the tray down and flowed up onto the bed, depositing himself in Steve's lap and wrapping his arms around him. He was warm and solid and steady, and Steve burrowed his face into Tony's neck and breathed him in. Tony toyed with the edges of his hair. "Missed you," he said, instead of asking how the missions went, and Steve could never be grateful enough for this perfect man. 

"Me too. So much."

"JARVIS has us on lockdown," Tony said, his voice soft. "Twenty-four hours."

"Oh - I -" Steve cut himself off. His instinct was to protest - there were after-action reports to do, his team might need his input, what if there was yet another mission - but supersoldier or no, he wasn't as young as he used to be, and he couldn't find the strength to fight it. "Okay."

Tony kissed his forehead. "Good boy. Now if only you'd listen to me on other things…" Tony smiled at him, and Steve shook his head.

"Not ready to retire yet."

"Not even after seeing how much fun I'm having?" Tony offered.

"You work more now than you did before." Steve let his fingers wander up under the hem of Tony's t-shirt. He pressed his palm flat over Tony's side, petting the soft skin that curved around and stretched over his hip bones. 

"That may be so, but I don't have a panic attack at the prospect of being out of contact for a day."

Steve scoffed. "Look at me! I'm not having a panic attack."

"You were thinking about it."

"I feel like thinking about is sort of the opposite of having a panic attack."

"You're ruining our lovely Sunday morning off," Tony said.

"You started it!"

Tony burst out laughing, and Steve grabbed him around the waist and dragged him down on top of him, kissing across his cheeks and into his silver-tinged hair. He smelled like Tony, sweet and spicy at the same time. "You smell like a wet gym sock," Tony whispered somewhat seductively in Steve's ear.

"And here I was just thinking you smelled like home," Steve shot back.

Tony pushed up off Steve's lap, making him whine softly at the loss, and took hold of both of his hands. "Come on. I had J start a bath."

"I can just shower," Steve said, letting Tony drag him off towards the en suite.

Tony sat him down on the toilet seat cover and poked at the bathtub. "Sure, but then how will you eat breakfast at the same time?" He uncapped a bottle and the room filled with the smell of spiced oranges. He poured a capful under the running water then disappeared back into the bedroom. He returned with the tray - which Steve had forgotten about - and set it on the curving tile that framed the opulent bathtub. Sometimes living with Tony felt too decadent, too over-the-top, but he had to admit that a hot-tub sized bathtub with heated jets and JARVIS-controlled taps was a worthwhile investment.

Tony took Steve by both hands and levered him up, rewarding him with a kiss when he stood. Tony hooked his thumbs in Steve's boxers and dropped them to the floor then helped him step into the tub. The water was hot, just on the edge of too hot, and Steve's skin tingled with it as he sunk down. "Oh my god, Tony. That feels so good."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

Steve laughed giddily, and sunk down until the water flowed up over his shoulders. He tipped his head to the side to watch as Tony stripped out of his own pajamas, dropping them in a pile on the floor. He's softened a little with age, now that he wasn't piloting Iron Man or sparring to keep up with the other Avengers, but to Steve, ever year only made him more beautiful. He'd never thought he'd get to grow old, let alone grow old with someone. Each of Tony's laugh lines was a smile they'd shared.

Tony kicked his clothes aside, and Steve groaned. "Oh, shit. That reminds me. I left all my mission gear by the door. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Tony climbed in the tub too, settling between Steve's legs. "I took care of it."

"You didn't have to do that." Steve's tongue was heavy and he knew his words were coming out slurred. 

Tony's hand stroked up Steve's thigh, and Steve floated in the sensation for a while. Tony's touch mixed with the hot steam and the gentle scent, and the tension in Steve's muscles started to float away. Until his stomach growled.

Tony laughed. "Hungry, baby?"

"Always." Steve fluttered his eyes open and grinned at his boyfriend who was rattling things on the tray.

"Shove up."

Steve shifted to the side, and Tony squished in next to him, snuggling them both in one corner of the tub. Tony grabbed the corner of the tray and dragged it over to them then lifted a sliced strawberry from a bowl and held it out to Steve. Steve took the berry with his lips, making sure to lick the extra juice from Tony's fingers. 

While Tony reached for another berry, Steve tipped over into his neck, kissing his wet skin and nuzzling up into his hair, breathing in the sweet-spiced scent. He curled his hand over Tony's stomach under the water. Tony turned back with a smile. "You're supposed to be eating, pet."

"More hungry for you," Steve murmured into Tony's ear.

_ "Pazienza,  _ love. Food first. When was the last time you ate, huh?"

Steve opened his mouth obediently, and Tony dropped a blueberry in. "I ate a strawberry about twenty seconds ago." He smirked.

Tony shot him a look. "Okay, smartass."

But Steve curled over Tony and kissed him to cut off the rest of his retort. "I'll be good. I'm hungry. Feed me."

"Alright, Audrey. Sit down."

Steve sat facing Tony, tucking his legs on either side of his hips. The water had cooled a little, but JARVIS, with his impeccable timing, turned the heated jets on and it started to warm again.

Tony fed him the whole bowl of fruit then followed it with spoonfuls of yogurt, tart with a swirl of honey through it. Under a silver dome was buttered toast with cinnamon sugar and bacon that was still miraculously crispy. Tony had skipped the eggs - he always left eggs to Steve to cook - but he had almost everything else that Steve liked best in the morning.

"Aren't you hungry, Tony? You should eat too."

"I ate like half of what I made as soon as it came off the stove," Tony said with a laugh, but he nibbled on a piece of toast. "You done?"

Steve nodded and pushed the tray aside, folding over Tony who petted his hands back around Steve's neck and tugged at his hair. Tony pulled him into a kiss. "Let's get this mission off you, huh?"

"Yes, please." 

JARVIS flushed the water with hot jets again, and Steve selected a bottle of shampoo from the shelf by the tub and handed it to Tony before turning around to lean back against his chest. There were few things he liked more than Tony washing his hair, and he used every means, down to actual bribery, to get it to happen as often as possible.

This time, however, it seemed he was going to get it for free. Tony's knees locked around his hips, and firm fingers combed through his hair, tugging out the knots. "Dip," Tony instructed, and Steve slid down to dip his head underwater then popped up again. Tony's hands returned, with shampoo this time, and scrubbed it in, scraping Steve's scalp in firm circles. 

Steve moaned and let his hands wander down Tony's calves. He dipped again when Tony told him to, eyes staying closed when he came back up out of the water. Tony took the "rinse and repeat" instructions to heart and scrubbed shampoo through his hair again, making sure it was perfectly clean, every fleck of dirt from two back-to-back missions washed clear. 

When the shampoo was rinsed out, Tony pulled the plug and the tub drained quickly then he turned a knob and it started to refill with fresh, hot water. Tony took a washcloth and started at Steve's feet, working his way up. When he got close enough to touch, Steve took a second cloth and started in on Tony. It was sweet and tender and intimate, quietly washing each other. The bathroom was full of steam, bringing it even closer. 

Eventually, Steve's hands started wandering with more purpose. Now that he was fed, he had another hunger to sate, and Tony arched into the touch. JARVIS drained the tub again, and Tony drew Steve up to his feet and wrapped a warm, fluffy towel around him, patting and drying.

But Steve's patience only went so far. He pushed the towel away and drew Tony into his arms and into a kiss. Tony melted into his hold. 

This was a dance they knew well, every step familiar but not mundane. Steve felt the same thrill every time he had Tony in his arms. They stepped back into the bedroom together, in perfect time, and fell onto the bed. Steve explored every inch of Tony's smooth, fresh skin, first with his fingers and then with his tongue, and Tony's soft gasps vibrated through him. 

They rolled together, grinding and petting and stroking, as pleasure built between them. Steve gasped into Tony's mouth as Tony took him in hand, grip firm and perfect. The exhaustion Steve had felt the night before was gone, evaporated by the hot water and Tony's gentle touch.

"Come on, baby," Tony whispered against his forehead, "Let go."

And Steve did, with a shudder and choked out,  _ "Tony." _ He spilled over Tony's fist, shaking and gasping. He slid down Tony's body, drawing kisses and nips over his chest and sucked him down, reveling the arch of Tony's back as he thrust down his throat. It wasn't long before Tony joined him in tipping over the edge, flushing Steve with primal satisfaction as he swallowed the evidence of Tony's pleasure.

They collapsed together, legs wound together in a sated mess. Tony nuzzled up, pressing a kiss to Steve's shoulder and Steve grinned into his hair, suddenly enervated. "I'll make us coffee, sweetheart."

Tony mumbled a happy reply, and Steve pushed up out of bed. Tony's enthusiasm for good coffee had infected Steve over the years, and now he loved selecting roasts and working the espresso maker almost as much as his partner. Tony even had partial ownership in a few coffee shops around the city, one of which roasted its own beans, and Steve enjoyed frequenting them and talking shop with the managers. 

He stuck his nose in a few bags before picking one he liked and poured it into the grinder. Knowing Tony was sprawled out and sated one room over thrummed warm and satisfying in Steve's stomach. He was re-energized by their morning together, even as Tony was wiped flat. The last few days were distant in the rearview, and all that mattered now was their homey little bubble. 

The espresso machine gurgled and hissed and Steve heated milk and filled two mugs. The smell was incredible and he bent over the cups and breathed it in as he walked back to the bedroom.

Tony was flat on his face, burrowed into the pillows, but while Steve was out, he'd made a nest on the bed, piling all the pillows and blankets up with a dip in the middle for them to curl up into. The lights were low and the TV was on, the next episode of Law and Order: Animal Protection Office queued up from where they'd left off last weekend.

Steve kissed the back of Tony's head. "Coffee."

He sprung up, suddenly awake, and made grabby hands towards his mug. They shifted around together, tossing blankets and fluffing the pillows into the right shape. Eventually, they got settled, Steve nestled back in a pile of squishy pillows with Tony curled up on his chest, each with their mug of coffee.

"We're staying in bed all week," Tony declared, reaching for his phone to start the episode. "I already told Fury you were on leave for at least the rest of the month."

Steve laughed. Maybe he would take some time off. Having Sunday morning  _ every  _ morning did have its appeal. As much as he was sure he wasn't ready for retirement just yet, he couldn't deny that he was ready for a break. Especially when he'd get to spend it with Tony.

"I'm so lucky to have you," Steve whispered into Tony's hair, and Tony shifted around to kiss him properly.

"Not luck, sweetheart," he said, cupping Steve's face and pressing his lips to the end of his nose. "Getting me was all skill."


End file.
